Dreaming Armor
by Snip13r
Summary: Jeffrey is the new commander of Eastside Boys' High School's tankery team. A stunning tankery prodigy, he attempts to lead the school to their long-awaited victory at the international high school tankery tournament. In the process he forms a rivalry with the commander of the German girls high school, Black Forest Peak, as well as feelings. (Co-written by Phantomwalker.)
1. Introduction

**(Written by Snip13r, and co-written/proofread by Phantomwalker.)**

 **(Rated T for moderate swearing. Some chapters contain Italian, German, French, Dutch, and Russian speech.)**

 **(The Girls und Panzer original series belongs to Actas. OCs are solely mine.)**

* * *

 **Introduction**

Tankery, unlike the past six decades, has blown up considerably.

Practiced in over 30 nations, tankery has been the most popular form of extreme sports. Yes, there is skiing, there is cliff diving, there is paintball, among many others. When tanks were first conceived, they were meant to provide immense penetration capabilities through enemy lines. As the years would pass tanks have evolved in many different ways. Longer, more powerful guns, faster cruising speeds, thicker armor and more. Tanks have become a main component of every single military on the earth. The variety of roles tanks can fulfill are countless.

However, by the mid-20th century a new purpose was devised for these war machines. Whoever came up with this idea at the time would definitely be dubbed mentally insane. Little did that person know that it would skyrocket into the next generation as something much more than a "form of training and entertainment".

It came with backlash before. Angry people ranging from parents up to big-time politicians have opposed the practice of tankery, citing conservative ideals, sometimes even utter nonsense. But that didn't stop tankery from growing. That didn't stop tankery from expanding. Tankery still went from nothing to being a thing.

Nowadays tankery is one of the biggest sports among regular ones such as football and basketball. There are competitive leagues as expected, and not a single event is even lax on viewers all over the world. There are three levels on how competitive tankery is categorized: high schools, colleges, and lastly, "professional-tier" national teams. All three levels of tankery are broadcast live on television and on the web, and the money being raked from this can amount to thousands, maybe even millions. Every time a tankery match is broadcast, eight out of ten homes are full of viewers. Tankery has become a major staple of entertainment.

To those who may not know, what exactly is tankery?

Tankery is simply tank combat polished as an extreme sport. As opposed to using tanks for all-out bloodshed, the safety of the participants is prioritized in tankery. Conceived way back in the 1950s rapid advancements in technology have resulted in tankery blooming in the eyes of practicality and interactivity. Like regular sports, tankery can be practiced whether on a recreational level or competitive level.

Tankery has different gamemodes, two of which are the most popular: flag match and elimination match. Flag matches consist of 10 tanks or more (depending on the set rules by the governing body) for both sides. Both sides have at least one flag tank, and the objective is to take out the opposing team's flag tank to win the match. Elimination matches, on the other hand, require one team to take out all of the opposing team's tanks, and vice verse.

What are the kinds of tanks used in tankery?

According to the International Tankery League's rules, only early Cold War-era tanks to WW2 tanks can be used. While seeing WW1 tanks and modern tanks in tankery may be entertaining, WW1 tanks are considered to be dilapidated for use and modern ones too dangerous to use, as well as costly, which also explains how only the military gets to use them.

How are the participants protected during tankery?

The League issues modified munitions for all tanks, both for tank guns and machine guns. These munitions are less lethal than regular bullets and shells, and when put up against the carbon-coated armor plating of all tanks (once again made possible by the League), merits a 100 percent safety rate. Additionally, the rules involve participants to never ever leave their tanks during matchtime, considering that bullets are still bullets regardless.

Moving on to explaining the three different levels of competitive tankery from biggest to smallest, starting off with the national level:

In total there are 30 countries that compete in tankery with national teams. All of the countries competing are defined to be capable of tank production and funding for their national teams, hence making all the participants from wealthy countries. This includes Austria, Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Hungary, The Netherlands, Russia, and more. In the national/international level the tanks used are early Cold War-era such as the M60 Patton. And as usual with every tankery match shit gets hectic so fast (but people enjoy it nonetheless).

For the collegiate level: 20 colleges and universities from 20 different countries (1 school for each country) compete with the same setup as the national level, but the difference is that they are restricted to WW2-era tanks. To be even more specific, any tank conceived before August 15, 1945 (which is the date of V-J Day and end of WW2) is eligible for competition. All of the colleges and universities are top-tier in their own countries, meaning they are wealthy and have the funds for their own tankery teams, and they may or may not be supported by their countries' governments in terms of funding, additionally.

For the high school level: same as the collegiate level, but there are two major differences. One, the number of countries competing is down to 15, and two, gender segregation is applied. Each of the 15 countries has two high schools, one for boys, one for girls. The tournament setup is divided between 15 boys' high schools and 15 girls' high schools. The 15 boys' schools will compete with each other, and the same applies to the 15 girls' schools. Only one boys' high school and one girls' high school get to face off in the finals.

With tankery becoming bigger and better, good vibes are rising between countries. Diplomatic relations improve through tankery, trade and commerce improves as well through tankery, and social relations improve even through tankery. It's like the world would never be a better place if it weren't for tankery. Come to think of it, tanks, bred for war, are now used to promote peace eventually.


	2. First Time

**Rellington Residence**

 **Brooklyn, NYC, New York, USA**

 **6:30 AM**

"Ah, fuck!"

Jeffrey accidentally ruined his wake-up process when his alarm clock began to blare, causing him to hit his head on the bed's wooden headrest as he jerked upwards. He let out a couple of groans, both from the pain in his head and the remaining bits of sleepiness in him.

Slowly turning to his right, he stared at the time which displayed "6:30 AM", slammed his hand down on the snooze button on the alarm clock, before laying back down. He scratched his head and stretched his body in an effort to jumpstart his muscles before proceeding to go downstairs for breakfast.

His room was pretty interesting. Not by design, but rather by setup. It was considerably big for only one person, but it was actually meant to be a master bedroom for two. Meaning that Jeffrey had a comfy king-sized bed all to himself. The room had once belonged to his parents, but it was his now.

Slowly walking down the stairs and towards the kitchen, he took the initiative to prepare breakfast. Rummaging through a couple of cupboards and drawers for the correct plates and silverware to use, he thought of what to eat for breakfast before simply deciding to have some plain toast and bacon.

He plugged in the toaster and grabbed two slices of bread, then after applying some butter on both sides of each piece, began to process them through the toaster. Moving to cook the bacon while the toast was underway, Jeffrey swiftly grabbed a frying pan along with the bacon and cooking oil, setting them down and went through the process of cooking his morning breakfast.

Once the toast and the bacon were done, he flipped and served them atop a plate, then walked towards the dining table to eat.

It might have been mildly surprising how a high schooler such as Jeffrey was able to provide for himself and keep things in running order in a single house, but it had actually been the norm for him, and it had been like that for nearly a decade. None of his friends even knew how he manages to move on every now and then, with the notable exception being his relatives.

He was nearly done with his food when his phone started buzzing in the form of text messages. The name "Culter" was visible in bold letters.

* * *

 _Culter: hey jeff, u ready for the first meeting? cause all of us are (6:41 AM)_

 _Culter: i have the list of membrs, the list of tanks, the equipment spreadsheets, evrything. waiting on ur go, accrding to mr. faraday the number of members have increased significantly after that one shitshow u put up a month ago. like outstanding job man, but hey, its ur first time to formally lead the team (6:42 AM)_

 _Culter: i may be one year higher than u, but i have faith in u and i am more than willing to help u, it is my duty as vice cmdr. anyway see you at school, i got evrything set up for u (6:42 AM)_

* * *

A small smirk formed on his face.

'Culter' was actually Cutler Hatter, his vice-commander who has been in the Tankery team for three years. Although he had more experience than Jeffrey and was a year higher than him, he'd been somewhat stuck to the vice-commander position instead of overall commander. Jeffrey was considered by many to be a prodigy in Tankery, however, as during the past year he had displayed unmatched commanding skills at such a young age. The school's administration was ultimately flabbergasted at this unexpected turn of events, and it was finally decided that Jeffrey would be the next overall commander of Eastside's Tankery team (this hurt Cutler's insides a bit, but he was fine with it nonetheless). Cutler would eventually grow to show some respect for Jeffrey in the field of Tankery.

Thinking for a bit on what to reply to Cutler's good message, Jeffrey would hit him back a message regarding his update, and what to do once he was finally at school.

* * *

 _Jeffrey: Thanks a lot bro. We're going to worry about the tanks, technical data, and other stuff at a later date anyway. Today it's just meet and greet, introductions for Tankery, and briefing. (6:44 AM)_

 _Jeffrey: At least the administration gave us offices for this kind of shit. Lol. (6:45 AM)_

* * *

Cutler replied back, and it was a pretty snide one.

* * *

 _Culter: yeah haha, but ey, i gave u words of support, arent u going to like reply sweetly (6:45 AM)_

* * *

Jeffrey huffed at his reply, then gave him a subtle blow. They've been really good friends for quite some time.

* * *

 _Jeffrey: Miss with that gay shit. I'll have you kicked from the team. LMAO (6:46 AM)_

 _Culter: lmao. gotta go now, see u later (6:46 AM)_

 _Jeffrey: Alright. Remember the meetup time. 2 PM sharp. See you. (6:47 AM)_

 _Culter: bye (6:47 AM)_

* * *

Setting down his phone and finishing all the last bits of his breakfast, Jeffrey proceeded to clean up the table and take a shower. Once he had taken his shower he began to get dressed, putting on Eastside's school uniform.

Eastside's school uniform was very similar to Saunders' high school uniform, their all-girls school counterpart, or Sister School. The uniforms for both schools sport the same gray blazer, the white undershirt, and the red necktie. However the noticeable differences where that boys had black pants on opposed to the red skirts for the girls, the different school patches on the left breast, and brown buttons on the boys' blazers opposed to the black ones on the girls. It was a decent design for the very least. Additionally, Eastside had a unique dress code where the school uniforms are put on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, but plain clothes were allowed on Friday.

"Time to shine, Jeffrey. You're the commander of the whole team now." he mumbled to himself. "You've been doing this for a year now. Things won't be bad like before."

Being the overall commander was going to be the most stressful role Jeffrey had ever played, and it was right to perform soliloquy in front of a mirror to at least get a self-confidence boost. Several minutes followed and one of Eastside's many school buses arrived in front of his home. He performed a last-minute check on his belongings before rushing downstairs to board the bus.

* * *

 **Eastside Boys' High School**

 **Manhattan, NYC, New York, USA**

 **7:44 AM**

The school bus went on a twenty-minute drive from the Brooklyn borough, where Jeffrey's house was located, to the Manhattan borough, where Eastside was based. Taking the everyday traffic New York City normally had into consideration, being late was just the second major concern in Jeffrey's mind. The first, apart from studies and whatnot, was the Tankery team.

Eastside Boys High School was an all-boys high school located in New York City. It was one of the two major/most-elite high schools in the US, the other being Saunders Girls High School situated in San Francisco, California. Eastside was known throughout the country for being the most prestigious boys high school the USA had to offer. It had also been a key player in the International Tankery Leagues', or ITL's, high school division. Both Eastside and Saunders trained with one other occasionally, and have faced-off in the grand finals decades back. The school was renowned for its general tactics in Tankery, having been inspired by force concentration tactics employed by the US during WW2 (even though it was next to useless as the US lagged behind in tank development), and a massive array of American tanks ranging from the M3 Stuart to the T28 Super Heavy Tank. The same went for Saunders, but with slight differences in tactics.

But for the past several years, the school hadn't managed to win any title in the tournament, due to a history of poor performances made by previous overall commanders. Hopes had been sky high though, after the recent explosion of Jeffrey's performance during the past year. He had started off as a commander for a Sherman Jumbo, yet he displayed outstanding capabilities as a tactician, even surpassing the overall commander at that time.

Sadly the closest the team had gotten at that time was second place within the boys' division.

Now, with Jeffrey assuming overall command of the Tankery team, everyone from the students to the administrative staff had their breaths held, awaiting the chance of obtaining their long-desired championship in the international league. And while people in the US including the girls from Saunders were all eyes and ears for Eastside, the news of the school having a new overall commander with groundbreaking capabilities has been brewing up outside of the US recently, too.

Every Tankery commander and vice-commander of the many different schools had their unique reactions. Some were surprised, some were intrigued, and some were blunt. With this widespread of a subject, Jeffrey was absolutely going to get a mixed bag of opinions once tournament day came. But they weren't any of his concerns at best. The more prevalent idea was if his team would even be able to perform well, if his team would even be able to make it though half of the tournament. Years of garbage-tier overall commanders had hurt Eastside down to the bones, and finally they've ended up having a promising Tankery prodigy as if heaven answered their calls.

This is his first shot at commanding an entire team, and a big one, too.

Once the school bus had arrived in front of the school gates, all of the students disembarked and walked towards the school entrance. Jeffrey looked down at his phone, checking the current time displayed. 7:44 AM. Just minutes until school officially started. Cutler was waiting for Jeffrey outside by the entrance, a half-eaten hotdog sandwich in hand. Cutler was a year older than Jeffrey, and had short dark brown hair, along with blue eyes.

"Good morning to the new commander, and the new hope of Eastside's Tankery team." This elicited a chuckle from Jeffrey knowing that Cutler was quite the jack-in-the-box of compliments.

"Enough with that crap already, Cutler. I can already foresee you repeating that line for weeks on end."

"Nah, I know you kind of like it a bit." The two laughed and proceeded inside the main building.

As the overall commander, Jeffrey had the colossal role of being a strategist for his whole team, as well as being the one to manage its activities and resources. Only the most skilled and most responsible members of the team are chosen to be candidates for the next overall commander of the team, and boy was it a real honor to be ultimately picked to be the one to lead the team for an entire year.

Should the current overall commander feel uncomfortable or feel uncapable of performing his/her duties, they had the ability to choose to step down from their position, at which point the vice-commander would automatically replace them for the role.

To start off the day, Jeffrey jumped straight into asking Cutler about the team's statistics, treading over numbers he was curious to know about.

"So, uh, how many people have signed up this year? Last year there were 121 total including me."

"Almost 150 people. To be exact, 146 people have signed up, 27 of them are part of the repair and technical roles." Jeffrey's eyes slightly widened at those numbers. That was a pretty big increase in the number of people joining the Tankery team.

"Any changes made so far?"

"26 people have been dropped due to conflicting schedules with other clubs that they're in. None of them were part of the 27 people in the repair and technical teams."

"It's a comfy number. It won't hurt us." Cutler offered him a piece of his hot-dog, to which Jeffrey accepted and took, swallowing it whole. "Mmph, I hope these new guys are good enough. We finished second in the boys' finals before, now we have to win this whole thing for real."

Cutler couldn't agree with him more on that. Basically every team's goal is to win the tournament, no matter what it takes. "We had it before, a lot of people were just dogshit."

"Hey, you were dogshit too, Cutler." Jeffrey mocked jokingly and cracked up.

"Oh screw you."

All of a sudden the PA system within the school crackled, with a male voice announcing that classes were about to begin by 8 AM. That was the cue for both commanders to automatically head to their respective classrooms before the bell rang, or else be sharply marked late for class.

"Well, well. Time to get our butts to class." Cutler looked at his surroundings as more and more fellow students rushed down the same corridor, with the same objective to not get branded late before the school bell.

"We'll talk later then. Lets go." Jeffrey grasped his backpack's sling and ran down the corridor with Cutler following suit.

"Right behind you."

"You'll let me borrow the scratch paper for Chemistry later, right? Cause I need that so bad."

"Don't worry, I'll give it to you during lunch."

Eastside was a pretty large school. Considering how it was the most renown all-boys high school in the US it was pretty much a 'first' at almost everything in the academic field. It was well-funded, not as well-funded as some of the British and German schools overseas, but still better off then most other American highschools, excluding Saunders. It was also better off then some other well known international schools, such as France's Maginot Girls' Academy and Russia's St. Petersburg Boys' Academy.

The school was also renowned when it came to the aesthetic aspect, being one of the most well-designed schools in the U.S. The exterior of the building was consistent with the architecture of every building in the Manhattan borough - modern designs juxtaposed with classical designs. Eastside was divided into four main buildings, three of which were six stories high, and one being just three stories high, with amenities ranging from an indoor gymnasium to lap pools to smaller function rooms. It also had an underground parking area, and a set of garages for the tanks. Additionally, not too far from the New York metropolis, Eastside had a private patch of land located in Orange County used exclusively by the Tankery team for training purposes.

To study in a school like Eastside would be like conceeding the fact that school was no longer 'mental hell'. If one were to describe school life in Eastside Boys' High in one word, it would be heavenly. The only downside, however, was that the tuition was high. Well, not as high as the British schools, at least.

Jeffrey and Cutler chose to save the talk for later and moved on to their classes. The two separated at a T-junction corridor, with Jeffrey headed for the eleventh grade-classrooms and Cutler headed for the twelfth grade ones.

* * *

 **School Cafeteria**

 **11:24 AM**

Morning classes ran for a total of four hours, from 8 AM to 11 AM. Once the 11 AM mark was passed then it was officially lunch break. Having sat down for English, history, and then trigonometry, Jeffrey already felt as if his listening capabilities were down to half the power. His list of things to do was just about to get filled, as there was still two more subjects to get through plus a team meeting.

Among the thousands of students Eastside had from ninth grade to twelfth, some of the males that ran the school cafeteria were part of them. Mainly because the cafeteria staff were not enough to make the long waiting lines continuously flowing. To resolve that issue, the administration has decided that select students, most of which were part of the student council, would be assigned to help the cafeteria staff with serving food non-stop.

And the food served can't be found in your typical American high school cafeteria, either. All of the dishes on the menu were screaming luxury all over, prepared to perfection to feed a lot of mouths. And it was like this, every single weekday.

What a perfect time for Jeffrey to eat.

As he grabbed a tray and worked his way down the line, he heard a voice addressing him from the stalls, from one of the cafeteria employees.

"Well, well, if it isn't the school's new tank commander. Ready to reel in the cute girls out there?" The employee in question was Eastside's resident chef, Arby Malkowich, who has been running for the school cafeteria for nearly twenty years. He had the appearance of a 50 year old man with white hair and a wrinkly face, along with a pair of eyes that filled with teasing amusement.

For decades he had been supporting the school's Tankery team, but it has been a long time since he saw the school have its championship trophy. Now, with the news of Jeffrey being appointed as the team's new overall commander, he had been more than excited for the upcoming tournament.

Jeffrey's face turned beet red and he replied in a casual tone. "Mr. Malkowich, I'm more nervous than you think, there's no way I'm even going to last a minute surrounded by girls my age. I'm just... too uncomfortable with these kinds of things." The sad truth was that the overall commanders before him only cared about such attention instead of keeping their focus on the sport.

"Come on, kid, you have the skills, it's okay to at least appreciate the attention that you have."

"But I don't wanna feel like a celebrity." Jeffrey groaned. This elicited a chuckle from Arby.

"Celebrity or not, you can do really great things."

"Wise words."

"Of course. Now, this conversation is making this line longer, so I'm not gonna waste your time, Jeffrey. Just pick whatever you like. Oh, and good luck too. Hopefully I'll be able to come with you to Belgium soon."

Jeffrey smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Malkowich. I appreciate that."

He moved on and hastily filled his plate with a variety of dishes, then proceeded to walk towards the tables, searching for where Cutler was eating.

"Hey Jeffrey! Over here!" A familiar voice called out from a sea of hundreds of other students. Cutler found him first and called him out from a table fit for two people.

Jeffrey turned his head to Cutler's position and walked towards it, carefully carrying his tray of food. He sat down opposite his spot, gently laying down the tray.

"Have you seen the cheese rolls they were serving on the far right? They're pretty good." Some bits of melted cheese were visible on Cutler's platter, indicating that he had taken some while he had the opportunity.

"Yeah, I saw them, but as soon as I got to the container, it was all fucking out." Jeffrey frowned.

"Ha, that's too bad."

"Doesn't matter. Food today is pretty good, now we can talk about business."

"Scratch paper for Chemistry?"

"Hell yes. I'll take it after this." He started to inquire about the team's current inventory of tanks. "So, can you at least tell me about the new tanks that we have acquired, as well as new equipment?"

"I thought you said we were going to talk about them at a later date?"

"Disregard what I said. Tell me a bit about them anyway."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Perfect." On one side of Jeffrey's platter was a moderately-sized scoop of mashed potato with chipotle sauce, and on the other steamed salad and pulled pork. He started eating the mashed potato first.

"The U.S. Army has supplied us five brand-new Hellcats, three new M4A3s, and two new Super Pershings.

"Holy shit." Jeffrey swore as he chewed on food in his mouth. "They delivered that from Fort Bennington right?"

Cutler nodded. "Yeah. Me and Mr. Hamilton went to JFK to receive the new tanks. All of the tanks were painted really, really well."

For each country, it was the military's job to produce the tanks and install the safety equipment for the sport. It made sense, since they dealt with the same kind of war machines every day, only much newer. The transactions were simple. Schools paid the military large sums of money for contracts and to fill the price of building materials, and in return they built and supplied the schools with tanks.

"I bet Mr. Hamilton jumped in joy when he found out the Army would be supplying us more Hellcats and Super Pershings?" They both chuckled and Cutler responded.

"Yeah. He was equally as excited as the rest of the members. Now that we have eleven Super Pershings we're going to kick ass at a 50v50 exhibition match." No word has been out yet on whether a 50v50 exhibition match would come to fruition at the tournament, but such matches have beeb long part of tournament opening ceremonies.

"I'm also itching for a 50 versus 50 exhibition match. But are they even enough?"

"Trust me, our setup is enough. You gotta be thankful our selection of tanks are actually varied instead of just Shermans, like Saunders." This was one of the long-running jokes about their sister school, Saunders, having only an entire lineup of Sherman variants. But this was true some time ago, the current iteration of Saunders was a lot different. For a sport practiced on the professional level, it just would not make sense for a team to only have the same type of tanks for a match.

"I am. Speaking of the Shermans, are we going to phase out the M4A1-76Ws?"

"We're gonna be waiting for permission from the ITL. We can't just throw the M4A1-76Ws away like paper."

"Well they better hurry it up. If we're going to win the tournament we shouldn't be using poor variants of tanks."

"Relax, I'll handle it. It won't take long like the Stuarts and the Lees."

Jeffrey paused the conversation for a while, taking a moment to eat his lunch before resuming. He changed the topic from inventory management to Cutler's experience.

"How's your third time being vice-commander?"

"Enjoyable, I guess."

"I'm thankful you're not taking it too hard on me though."

"Don't worry, I'm not jealous about your position except for the fact that you're going to get the girls."

"Then you could have just informed me in advance so I would step down. I already know you're about meeting foreign chicks. But Lady Luck's on my side, and she wished for me to reel in some cute Europeans, or maybe Japanese."

Cutler scoffed. "Nah, I'm just kidding. You're uglier than those salted anchovies by Anzio so there's no way you're even going to be surrounded by girls."

Jeffrey spat out his food and furrowed his eyebrows at Cutler. "Comeback of a 12-year old. Grow the fuck up."

"Your mom's a 12-year old." A few students who overheard their exchange resisted their urges to laugh or chortle.

"Just give me that scratch now, will you?"

The two spent the next 30 minutes talking about a variety of subjects, still tankery-related, and it appeared to Jeffrey that everything was going to be fine with the team. He was no longer driven by the feeling that once he was commander he would have to spend much longer trying to mend broken fences for the team (or so he thought). The team had everything that it needed, all that's just left was to wait for tournament day to come.

Finishing their lunch Jeffrey and Cutler departed once again back to their own classrooms, proceeding to wait out the rest of the lunch break time.

* * *

 **Auditorium**

 **2:02 PM**

After two more subjects - physical education and chemistry, it was finally time for the Tankery team to get together. Training session was to come at a later date, just as Jeffrey had said earlier. Today was a meet-and-greet session. Friends would be surely made within the current pool of members, regardless of how large their count was, and good interaction between members were to be developed. After all, good communication was one of the most important facets in Tankery. The members of the Tankery team accounted for around 20% of the entire school population, and it was not a surprise considering how mainstream Tankery had been in the 21st century.

Public attention was manageable to a certain degree for Jeffrey. School meetings such as the one he was currently in were fine, but press conferences, meet-and-greet sessions, and other scenarios that had denser public presence made him all the more uncomfortable.

Students lined up upon entry, then slowly filled up the rows of seats inside the large auditorium. Cutler was visibly directing those who were unsure of where to go with a megaphone in hand.

"Tank commanders occupy the first two rows! Gunners occupy the next two rows! Loaders, occupy the next two! Radio operators, occupy the next row! Drivers occupy the next two rows! Technical crewmen occupy the last three rows! New members please sit down at the far right!"

Once all of the members had taken their seats, chattering and murmuring filled the atmosphere. As soon as Jeffrey arrived minutes later, the entire auditorium fell into silence.

Casually walking up the stage and towards the lectern preset with microphones, Jeffrey took a deep breath, ready to address the entire Tankery team improptu and in person.

"Good afternoon everyone. To the new members of the Tankery team, welcome. To the old members, welcome back."

Almost all of the members greeted Jeffrey back with resounding 'good afternoons'. Some remained silent and kept listening. Cutler was standing beside Jeffrey as he spoke.

"This is the first meeting that we'll be having, and over the course of the year there will be more to come. We're gonna be worrying about training and other stuff at a later date, since the ITL hasn't released an official date of when the tournament will start. For now I'll be introducing the commanders, then my vice commnder will move on to orientation for the new members and, uh... basic rules and regulations."

"To the new members," Jeffrey shifted his focus towards the new batch of members situated by the far right of the seating group. "I hope that you do your best in your selected roles this year. When you do your absolute best out there I will be the first to notice it, and you'll be securing a higher position next season. But keep in mind that not everyone will get the opportunity to be a tank commander. Not everyone will get the opportunity to be a loader. It's a learning process and I hope everyone understands that. If you fail to become a tank commander and drop down to becoming a technical crewman, don't feel bad about it. You still have two more years to go, remember? Start small, then work your way up."

Smiles and nodding gestures were visible among the members.

"To the old members, it's good to have you all on the same ship as me again. I missed you guys. Every single one of you. We made one hell of a run last season, but this year is going to be different. You can expect me to make some significant changes, now that I'm the new overall commander. This coming season, I expect you all to do your best as I do mine. With enough patience and determination, we will win this thing."

He cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Jeffrey Rellington, from 11-D, and I'm the overall commander. This person to my left is my vice-commander, Cutler Hatter, from 12-A. You can approach us anytime if you have problems or anything, we don't bite and bark like dogs." Chuckles emanated from the audience.

"If some of you are wondering how I'm just an 11th grader and I'm the commander compared to Cutler who's a 12th grader and the vice-commander, let's just say I got a 'raise'." The second wave of laughter then followed.

"Now, I'll be introducing the current group of tank commanders, starting with the group commanders." Looking at the two rows full of the designated tank commanders, each of them appeared to be skillful and unique individuals.

Group commanders were classified as third in hiearchy in a tankery team. They had complete control over a group of the same type/models of tanks, and were just as crucial to the overall and vice commander.

"Overall commander for the Chaffee group is Miles Gisbon, from 11-A." The mentioned person then stood up, appearing to be a short male with fair skin, messy blonde hair, and light blue eyes. Due to his short stature he had to tip-toe to greet the crowd behind.

Miles was branded as Eastside's resident speedster. During training and official matches he had a penchant for recklessly driving tanks at high speeds, a trait which pained the previous overall commander of the team. He was also childish but obedient to his superiors (in this case Jeffrey and Cutler). When it comes to one-on-one tank combat he utilizes hit-and-run tactics, which fit his tank perfectly, the M24 Chaffee.

Applause echoed from the crowd.

"Overall commander for the Sherman group is Calvin Frye, from 12-C." The mentioned person stood up as well, appearing to be a tall and skinny male with pale skin, black hair in a crew cut, black eyes, and wore a pair of glasses. Another round of applause came from the crowd as he waved his hand.

Calvin was the commander with the eccentric personality. Other than the members of his crew he rarely talked with other people, and no one even had a single clue as to what Calvin does in his free time. But even with an outlandish personality, he was a really proficient commander in battle, commanding Sherman tanks of four different variants. When it comes to one-on-one tank battles, he resorts to guerrilla tactics to take on equal or tougher opponents.

"Overall commander for the Pershing group is Hubert Mendoza, from grade 12-B." The mentioned person stood up and appeared to be the same height as Jeffrey, but with tan skin, black hair, and brown eyes.

A proud Texan, Hubert wanted to become part of the school's Tankery team, just like his father. Once he set foot on Eastside he immediately jumped at the opportunity to join the Tankery team. Fast forward to the present time, in his last year as a tank commander, alongside Cutler he was a strong candidate for overall commander, but Jeffrey had beat him to the position. But like his friend, he was fine with it as well. In one-on-one tank battles he resorts to brute force - any tank that ended up in his sights was as good as gone.

Outside of tankery Hubert was short-tempered, occasionally arguing with teammates over trivial things. He also had a reserved attachment to the M26 Pershing and its derivatives. Among the team he was the most skilled in tank-themed video games, beating even Jeffrey and Cutler at one-on-one matches.

"Overall commander for the Hellcat group is Danson Ziegler, from grade 11-A." The mentioned person stood up, appearing to be a fair-skinned male with swept black hair and orange eyes.

Danson (or "Dan" for short) was pretty laid-back outside of Tankery. The school administration was more or less unhappy with his grades, as they were all-time low. But even if his academic performance was poor, his dedication to Tankery was unmatched.

In combat he keeps his composure by listening to music. He takes advantage of the Hellcat's most notable feature: its speed. Similar to how Miles utilizes his Chaffee tanks in battle, Danson employs hit-and-run tactics in one-on-one tank battles. The only difference was that the Hellcat was faster, with the ability to move at 90 km/h (60 mph) at top speed.

"Overall commander for the Jackson group is Grady Patton, from 12-E." The aforementioned person stood up and appeared to be a short male with fair skin, red hair, brown eyes, and a prosthetic leg which was almost covered by the pants he wore.

At school Grady was praised as the first-ever disabled member of the Tankery team, and praised worldwide as the first-ever disabled participant in high school Tankery. He was missing his left leg due to a congenital condition, but this still did not stop him from being able to join the school's Tankery team. He received his prosthetic leg three years prior to his enrollment in Eastside, and the ITL even gave way for Grady to achieve his dream of being part of Tankery. Aside from being a tankery player he also was talented with playing the guitar.

Grady also doubled as a marksman with great accuracy. In one-on-one tank battles he resorts to sniping tactics, a perfect application of the M36 Jackson which had a powerful 90mm gun.

"On a side note, while I'm the overall commander of the team, I'm also handling the Super Pershing group." Jeffrey added as he moved on to introduce the individual tank commanders.

After four minutes, he had finished introducing the individual tank commanders, and moved on to introducing the people with miscellaneous roles.

"Leader for the technical crew is Wilson Sacramento, from 12-B." The aforementioned person stood up, appearing to be a tall male with dark skin, black hair in a skinhead cut, black eyes, and wore orange mechanic overalls in place of the Eastside school uniform.

Wilson was expected to do his job of keeping the tanks in good condition, and he did it really well over the past two years. Now, with major changes within the Tankery team, he knew he was going to have to spend a bit more time on technical duty. Within the group Wilson was a positive-minded individual, believing that no matter what befalls upon the team, there was always a way to overcome it. He was also very reliable if any of the tank commanders needed something to be done, whether if it was repairs for their tanks or requisitioning some new equipment.

"Our adviser is Mr. Hamilton Operan. He's the one taking care of external and internal affairs for the team, funding, and more." The aforementioned person stood up, appearing to be a tall male with fair skin, curly brown hair, brown eyes, and wore a black suit.

He served as the team's 'father' in a way, consulting each and every member if they were experiencing problems within the team. He handled external activities for the team such as setting up interviews with news agencies. His roles were similar to that of a secretary. He was also loud and very supportive of the team, just like Ardy, excited for the school to finally win a championship trophy after many bland years.

"Our coaches are Staff Sargent Browning Dye and Lieutenant Webley Dye from the New York National Guard." At the mention of their ranks, the applause from the crowd was louder than before. The aforementioned people stood up, both of which wore UCP military overalls, no caps/berets and whatnot. The two were brothers, in fact they were almost like twins, the only making them differ from each other is hair color.

The dark blonde-haired male, Browning used to serve as the commander of an M1 Abrams tank during the invasion of Iraq. He was also a former student of Eastside and his support for the school's Tankery team has been blooming. The other male who had light blonde hair was Webley. Just like his brother he served as the commander of an M1 Abrams tank during the invasion and was a former student of Eastside. Now that he was selected as one of the current coaches of the team he was more than sure that the team would be able to bring home the trophy. They both used to be part of the school's Tankery team nearly three decades ago, having won three championship titles for the school over the course of three school years.

"That is all for the introductions. Cutler will now be orienting the new members. Please, note down the stuff that he says if you can." Jeffrey finished, then walked away from the lectern for Cutler to take over. Applause emerged from the crowd in front.

Before he was about to take his seat Hamilton called him out and gestured to come over to the side of the stage. He sidestepped his way to the tankery team adviser.

"Uh, what is it, Mr. Operan?"

"Remember how you suggested to the ITL that the overall commander and vice-commander should use those popular spec-ops helmets?" questioned Hamilton.

"Yep. Why'd you ask?"

"Turns out your suggestion was a really good one. They noted how the FAST helmets could be outfitted with really good communication gear, so they said yes to your suggestion. It also makes the commanders and vice-commanders stand out, too."

Yet another sudden, unannounced change to equipment to come to the ITL, courtesy of Jeffrey. Some people just like to sport the classic tanker helmets (or caps in the case of the German schools), instead of modern helmets. This change might be a shocker to some of those appreciative of classics. Others might not mind. The ITL has been subject to a series of major and minor changes for decades since the conception of tankery, and this was one of them.

A grin formed on his face. "Sweet."

"From now on they're going to have all the overall commanders and vice-commanders use FAST helmets instead of the standard WW2 tanker helmets and other headgear. They will come with special headsets, side-mounted flashlights, and GoPros."

"Wow."

"If you want I can give them to you before you go home."

Jeffrey smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Operan, but I'll get them later."

Hamilton hit him up with another question as Jeffrey was about to walk away. "How's your first time as an overall commander, Jeffrey?"

"Oh, it's a blast. I can't wait to see the team end up failing." Jeffrey replied sarcastically.

Hamilton chuckled. "The team's going to fail faster if you keep thinking about the situation negatively."

"I was being sarcastic, Mr. Operan. First day and it's actually... pretty good."

"That's good to hear." He tightened up his necktie. "I was kind of worried that the role would be too much to bear for you. Worried that you might walk up to me in tears and declare that you're stepping down in an instant."

"I'm not really that kind of guy. I've wanted this ever since I was a kid. I know that as an overall commander I would be carrying a lot of weight on my shoulders, but I don't really mind. I want to lead a tankery team just like my father before me."

"And you are doing that now, kid." Hamilton smiled, and Jeffrey smiled back. "He would be proud of you. Do your absolute best in the tournament. Bring home the bacon."

"Thank you, Mr. Operan."

"Anytime. If you need anything I'll be in my office." Hamilton waved goodbye to Jeffrey and walked out of the auditorium.

Jeffrey walked up to his chair and sat down, slouching a bit. His ordeal for today was almost over.

* * *

 **En-route to Rellington Residence**

 **5:19 PM**

By 5 PM most students including Jeffrey were cleaed to go home. Many students leaving the school proceeded to go home in a variety of ways, by riding in the famous New York City cabs, by hopping along the school buses, or just by walking all the way home. 90% of the students were from many different parts of the United States, so they lived in the apartments nearby Eastside.

For the evening, Jeffrey decided to hop on one of the school buses, and the everyday NYC traffic meant that it was still some time before he was able to get home.

To deter himself from falling asleep on the way home, he opened his phone and typed in a newspage on the web browser, then began to scroll through the different articles being featured.

After a while scrolling through articles that did not catch his attention, he moved on to check out any articles Tankery-related. His eyes slightly widened and immediately fixated on a video showing an live interview with the commander of the German girls' high school, Schwarzwaldspitze, or in English, Black Forest Peak.

Before he could even watch the video himself some of the other students on the bus were already watching it in advance, occasionally shooting him steely-eyed looks. He assumed he had something to do with it and immediately viewed the video out of curiosity.

* * *

 _The intro for the news agency rolled in at the beginning of the video, then faded away to open up the actual interview._

 _"Hi, my name is Miranda Lee of CGN, reporting from the Schwarzwaldspitze training grounds in Stuttgart, Germany. As the peak of the upcoming International High School Tankery Tournament approaches, every participating high school all over the world have been waiting patiently for the schedule of the tournament to be released. But even with the absence of a current layout, some schools have taken the initiative to begin training in advance. This includes the German high schools, Schwarzwaldspitze Girls' High School and their brother school Munich Boys' Academy. I'm here with an interview with the overall commander of Germany's prestigious Schwarzwaldspitze Girls' High School Tankery team, Erika Wittmann."_

 _The reporter then turns her head towards the commander, revealing an admittedly beautiful young female with long brown hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion._

 _"Good morning, Ms. Wittmann. I hope I didn't butcher the pronunciation of your school name, did I?"_

 _Erika chuckled and replied back, her English accent being a nice sounding hybrid between an American and a Bavarian German one. "Don't worry, your pronunciation was actually rather good." She smiled._

 _"That's nice to hear! Now, please tell us about what you and your team have been doing for practice. You Germans certainly seem lively while the tournament date is being decided."_

 _She nodded. "Well, we recently started practice a couple of days ago. We started off with basic drills such as tank maneuvers, gunnery practice, and are currently moving on to more advanced drills."_

 _"Interesting. Do you have any changes you are planning to make when the tournament date is under consideration?"_

 _"No, not really. We're fine with our selection of tanks, and the same can be said for Munich Boys' Academy."_

 _"So how do you all feel about this season? Are you confident that you're going to win the tournament once again? As I'm sure most people know, Schwarzwaldspitze Girls' High School has been on a winning streak for eight years now. Do you believe that you'll be able to make it nine?"_

 _She nodded. "Yes, we are quite confident. I think with our superior tanks and strategy we'll be able to make it through. Just as we have in the past eight years."_

 _The reporter nodded. "Understandable. Most do say German tanks were the best tanks in World War 2."_

 _"Precisely." Erika confirmed with a smile on her face. "German tanks are undoubtedly the most superior."_

 _"I'd like to ask you something Erika. What are your thoughts on Eastside Boys' High School's new overall commander? A lot of attention from tank enthusiasts has been on him for some time now and a lot of people are saying that his performance last year was really shocking."_

 _As soon as the reporter mentioned "new overall commander", it was obvious that she was referring to him. Jeffrey immediately perked up as he patiently waited for the German commander's response._

 _"I can understand why he has been drawing so much attention. He managed to pull off an admittedly impressive performance one time last year, which did gain them some well earned spotlight. But that's all he's done. Just one action, whereas our school has been excelling for years in Tankery. He clearly still has a lot to learn until he can be considered professional. Especially since this is his first time holding a position of such authority to my knowledge."_

 _She wasn't wrong there._

 _"Nonetheless, I am still interested on how he'll be able to lead his team through the tournament, and should we end up battling one another, I hope he will put up a good fight."_

 _"Alright. Those were some pretty spicy words right there." The reporter chuckled at her own poor attempt of a joke. "Do you have a message you'd like to give the new commander?"_

 _She nodded. "Yes, I do." She turned to face the camera and cleared her throat. "Jeffrey Rellington."_

* * *

Jeffery blinked owlishly. _"God damn, she knows my name!"_ He felt a chill run down his entire spine after having his name called out during a live interview.

* * *

 _"I don't really care if you're good or not, but if we manage to face off in the tournament, I expect you to give it all your effort. Because I promise you, we will not show you any mercy." Erika claimed with a fiery stare._

 _The serious way how she delivered her message was somewhat arousing for a few males currently watching the interview, but to Jeffrey it was a sign of doom. Whether it was from the fact that she had been directly asked, or that she really did have something against him, it didn't matter. For whatever reason, the commander of Schwarzwaldspitze had directly targeted him with a challenge. And if they did manage to come face to face in the tournament, the world now expected him to deliver._

 _The fact that he had made and might end up facing one of the biggest and most powerful schools in the terms of Tankery was chilling. But he knew he was going to have to pass his emotions for another time. It was still too early to say who will be the victor of the tournament. At best he had other things to worry about._

 _The reporter laughed. "Wow, that's a powerful message! I'm pretty sure he'll be getting it in no time."_

 _She had no idea._

 _Erika chuckled as well. "Thank you. But on a more personal level, I am looking forward to meeting him."_

* * *

 _"Wait, what?!"_

* * *

 _"Anyway, moving on to the last question. If Schwarzwaldspitze Girls' High School and Munich Boys' Academy face off instead in the grand finals, what do you think it would feel like?"_

 _"Well, considering we're both German schools, it doesn't matter which of us would win. Regardless of which school wins the trophy, the recipient is German anyway. But, we're all competing not to show which gender is superior. We're not competing to show which country is superior. Just like the college and national levels, we're all competing to have fun, and win as a school. That's all."_

 _"Okay, thank you Ms. Wittmann, overall commander of Schwarzwaldspitze Girls' High School. Reporting live from Stuttgart, Germany, this is Miranda Lee, CGN News."_

* * *

As the video ended, Jeffrey had something along the lines of a, 'what the fuck did I just watch' look plastered on his face. His first time being the overall commander of a Tankery team, and metaphorical tectonic plates have already drastically moved. At present the only thing he could do was buckle down and start training. Some of the schools were already training, and Jeffrey knew that if he and his team were going to just sit around and do nothing while waiting for the schedule of the tournament, it would be an pointless run for them.

Much to his embarrassment the rest of the students inside the school bus were looking right at him. Total silence filled the bus, not a single person saying a word regarding the interview. The silent treatment went on for the next 30 minutes as the bus drove around Queens and Brooklyn, safely bringing students to their homes. Once Jeffrey's stop was up, he swiftly grabbed his bag and disembarked from the school bus, trying to avoid the sharp gazes of the remaining students inside.

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and sighed deeply as he was now in front of his house. All of the occupants of the bus save for the driver still had their gazes fixated on him until the bus drove away. It was completely unknown to him what happened next inside the bus afterwards.

 _"Why, why the fuck was I chosen as Eastside's new commander?"_


	3. Time to Train, Part 1

**Rellington Residence**

 **Brooklyn, NYC, New York, USA**

 **6:45 AM**

To say Jeffrey was feeling a storm of different emotions would be putting it lightly.

Just after taking his position as overall school commander, he gets called out on an interview by arguably one of the best high-school commanders in the world. Not that something similar had never happened before in the history of high school Tankery, but it was a slightly unnerving experience for him to experience it personally.

As he lied back on his bed, leaving his mind to roil and churn, he secretly wished that the entire thing was just a fantasy conjured up by his mind, but the logical side of his brain knew that it was all too real. The video had already garnered a moderate amount of attention online, both within and outside of the US. Luckily, the fallout was minor for Jeffrey, only receiving a barrage of questions from other students in the hallways.

However it didn't end with just one interview. Within the span of a week more videos of Tankery related interviews surfaced online, from many different news agencies, both in English and German, and with each interview Erika was present in, her demeanor intensified even more. Social media blew up with the subject of Jeffrey versus Erika becoming a hot trend. Memes covering the subject even started to appear on the Internet. Some he had to admit were funny, but others were just stupid or silly.

Much to Jeffrey's embarrassment his reputation was officially in a cauldron full of boiling hot water, and he knew he wouldn't be getting out of it for some time. The setup was just like World War Two all over again - two giants, America versus Germany, set to clash in the grand finals. Assuming of course that Jeffrey was able to successfully lead his team through the boys' division stages.

On the bright side though, at least she did not loathe him. Just like what she had said earlier in the first interview he watched, people engage in Tankery to purely have fun. There was no competition on showing which gender was superior, and certainly no competition on showing which country was superior. Tankery was only all about the experience.

He still needed something to throw back at that German chick - he had to formally prove to her that he was not an "amateur" at the commanding role.

 _"But why, Erika? Why do you have to call me out on an interview? I know, I know, I'm a newbie at this overall commander thing, I know I'm an amateur, and you're not, but do you really have to use the general public as an instrument for challenging me? Don't do that, I'm more embarrassed than how I look! Is this all just a challenge?"_

He pitched the idea of Erika calling him out as some sort of stunt, as a way of getting "close" to him. Whether if it was just to get in his head or some other reason, he didn't know. All he could do was speculate.

He would give her one thing though, what she said was right. Jeffrey only received merit because of his actions in a single session, and even with that the team ended up flunking. On the other hand, Erika, while on her second year as an overall commander, was pretty much a seasoned one. And in her hands was the German girls high school, Black Forest Peak, on a winning streak for eight seasons long.

He clenched a fist. _"Yeah, you're definitely challenging me. Well then, I accept. I'll do my best to give you the fight you want."_

He swallowed up a lump in his throat and sighed as he did not know what to expect from Erika furthermore. He then remembered that Erika mentioned about wanting to meet Jeffrey in person. Whatever kind of business she had with him was a big question. Prior to that he would have to look up personal information about Erika.

It was time for them to make progress. The team would be heading out of NYC for training today. He did not want Eastside to be as deficient as it has been for the past years.

Additionally, the ITL had finally confirmed the starting dates for the tournament. Match draw-ups for both boys' and girls' qualifiers divisions would be held on September 29. Where would the tournament be held? Talk about traveling back in time - the host country for the season was Belgium, venue being the Belgian side of the iconic Ardennes.

Regardless of whatever school Eastside would be facing in the qualifiers, Jeffrey needed to prepare his team for an intense match.

* * *

 **Eastside Boys' High School**

 **Manhattan, NYC, New York, USA**

 **8:02 AM**

Unlike the past week, it wasn't just Cutler who was waiting for him outside the school entrance. The six-man group consisted of all of the commanders: Cutler, Miles, Calvin, Hubert, Danson, and then Grady. Each commander had their specialties, and he knew them well enough to be able to trust them for the upcoming tournament.

"Morning, Jeffrey." Cutler greeted, waving at him as he approached the group.

Jeffrey took a sip from his cup of coffee and replied in a strained tone. "Morning."

"How's your day been?"

"Just fine, thanks."

The last things he wanted to hear every morning were half-assed statements of sympathy, and the last person he wanted to be the source was Cutler. "Hey man, if you're scared shitless and you decide to back down, you're still the best out there." He jested.

Jeffery frowned. "Shut up. I'm not fucking scared. I just think that something seems fishy about her. She's becoming more and more interested in me."

"So what? Are you thinking that she's obsessed with you?" His friend asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, not like that. It's just... It's hard to explain."

Cutler smiled. "Or it could be that she genuinely just wants to meet you. 'We will not show you any mercy, Jeffrey.' Sounds like she expects you to kneel down in fear and kiss her foot." All of the commanders, save for Calvin, snorted and chuckled.

"No, what if it was like this?" Joining in the fun was Grady, who enjoyed teasing Jeffrey more than any other commander. "Imagine, if she challenges you to a practice match firsthand and makes some sort of bet for you, chances are that bet will involve some sort of humiliation scheme. Maybe she'll have you walk around the fair wearing a dirndl! Can you guys imagine how Jeffrey would look like if he had one on, especially if its a short-skirt variant?" Although it was just for fun, that was probably the worst punishment to have after a match. An American boy wearing a short-skirt German dirndl was just too embarrassing.

Hard laughter followed, but Calvin was visibly the only one that did not and simply remained quiet. Miles, being the loudest among the group, laughed the hardest.

Jeffrey furrowed his eyebrows. "Grady, you're a bionic-legged piece of shit. Stop it."

The boy just rolled his eyes. "Okay. But really though, Erika is serious business." He couldn't have said it any better.

"Well then, I just have to see to it that my team does not fuck up with following orders. On the bright side, the lineup is pretty solid so we're gonna win this for sure." Cutler and the rest of the commanders nodded in unison. The selection of commanders and tanks appeared to be promising. And aside from reforming tactics, all he had to do was to see to it that they had their worth.

Cutler turned to Jeffrey and changed the subject. "You know, it's been a week and you still haven't made a formal response to Erika. The people are waiting." All eyes were then fixated on Jeffrey, as if to emphasize the point.

But in response to their attempted pressure, Jeffery just scoffed. "I don't care."

"But the news is on your ass. CGN and MSBN visited the school last Saturday for flash interviews and Mr. Hamilton had a headache just from trying to keep them at bay."

He sighed. "I know that. It's just, I still can't handle the attention I'm getting worldwide. 'Tankery prodigy' my ass, the moment the media approaches me with those cameras and microphones I'll be wetting myself."

"That is why you have Mr. Hamilton. He's the adviser for a reason. If you don't want to be interviewed on television just approach him and he'll tell the news teams to go away." It rang in his head, and he remembered again why Mr. Hamilton was the adviser of the team in the first place.

"Thanks for reminding me. But, I have to man up for real. I'll keep it cool in front of the media." He explained.

"That's good. Are you up for recorded interviews or live ones?"

"I'm fine with both, honestly. But I'm gonna be careful with what I say. Don't wanna add fuel for the German dragon." Considering how her presence was as hot as fire, Jeffrey didn't want to end up saying risque comments by accident, which could otherwise spoil their future interactions.

"Good luck with that. She's a pretty hot-blooded girl." Cutler said.

"Well, who even is Erika anyway? Why does she act like that? Why is she 'serious business'? You said you were going to tell us about her!" Miles questioned, his voice raised. The rest of the commanders nodded, also curious.

Jeffery then remembered something. "Oh, right, you promised that you were going to tell me stuff about Erika."

Cutler quickly shushed them. "Miles, can you please keep your voice down? The headmaster's right around the corner. I'll tell you all everything about Erika later, but we should get inside." He responded, and Miles became silent.

Once Jeffrey was in line with the group they started walking inside the school building in unison.

"So, who'll handle the training classes? I mean, we should be able to do this easily, right?" asked Cutler.

Jeffrey scratched his head for a bit then answered, "You're right, but I want training to be done thoroughly. I know you guys are used to early dismissals and you want to go home sooner than ever, but please, I want to take this shit seriously and you should all do the same. I'll handle training for gunnery. Cutler, you go and train the tank commanders."

"Yes sir." As Jeffrey converted to a serious tone, Cutler and the other commanders followed suit. On casual conversations, mainly conversations that were mostly outside of Tankery, there was no need for the use of honorifics and members could call superiors by their names. But when it came to conversations that were generally Tankery-related, such as communication between the gunner and a tank commander during a match, honorifics were to be used. A rule imposed by the previous overall commander. The legacy members had gotten used to it, despite Jeffrey's attempts to convince them to forgo the custom.

"Miles, Danson, you two handle training classes for driving and assistant driving. Miles, I know you're enjoying your Chaffee, but please, don't do anything stupid. I don't want to de-track a Chaffee doing donuts on the field." Cutler, Hubert, Danson, and Grady chuckled.

Miles grinned and responded casually, as if he did not care about Jeffrey's fair reminder. "Yes sir!"

Jeffrey turned to Calvin, who was spending some time on his phone. "Calvin, you handle training class for radio operation. Speak up a bit whenever you can, okay?"

Calvin eventually caught up with what Jeffrey had instructed him and responded in a somber monotone. "Yes sir."

"Hubert, you're with Cutler. You'll train the tank commanders with him."

Hubert stood firmly, hands behind his back. "Yes sir."

"Grady, you're with me. You'll handle training class for loading."

Grady smirked and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Wilson will handle training classes for technical crews, as always. It's gonna basic training for today until Thursday, and we're gonna have flag match training on Friday. Start boarding the bus for commanders and faculty by 8:30 AM. We'll train from 10 AM to 5 PM. Lunch break is at 12 PM to 1 PM. After training I'll decide who's going to stay at the grounds until 7 PM for extra maintenance duty on the tanks. Those who aren't going to stay for maintenance duty can board to buses back to New York."

All of the group commanders and Cutler nodded, finally having been assigned to their roles.

"Cutler, inform Dr. Kylie that we're starting training today. The medical teams should be on standby by 10 AM." Of course, safety is the number one priority in Tankery, so with every training it was standard that medical teams should be always on the ready. Tankery was unpredictable, after all. Anyone could still get hurt in the oddest ways possible, such as getting a hand stuck inside a cannon breech or getting knocked unconscious by a falling shell.

Cutler nodded. "Yes sir."

"That's all there is for today. If you guys have any problems let me know."

"Yes sir." The rest replied in unison.

"See you guys later, then. By 8:30 pack your things and board the buses, we're leaving for Orange County." As he finished, each commander headed for their respective classrooms to prepare their belongings. Once Jeffrey headed for his own classroom, just around the corner of his vision he noticed a short student with messy light brown hair who attempted to stop him in his tracks. Judging by the nervous look and sweating on his face he looked like he had business with Jeffrey.

"Uh, Mr. Rellington? Can I, uh, I mean are you still accepting new members in the team? I'd like..." Before he took any longer with trying to finish his sentence, Jeffrey stopped him. He could tell that he was a latecomer to the party.

"To join us? Well, registration was two weeks ago, what happened? Why weren't you able to register?" His countering question made the younger male more nervous. "Come on man, say what you need to say, I don't bite."

"I-I, uh, I wasn't able to. I mean I wanted to. But, I was too late though." He flicked his fingers and looked away, accompanied by more sweating.

"Too late, huh. Well, that's a shame. Normally I would say no, but..."

The young male frowned and looked down at the ground. "I can't?"

"No, I didn't say that you can't join." Jeffrey sighed and gave the male a reassuring look. "Hey, there are still spots in the team. You can join. I'll fill you in."

"Really?"

"Yeah! What's your name and what grade are you from?" As Jeffrey welcomed him with open arms, the younger male then started to become lively.

"I'm Albert Orville. I'm from 10-C."

"Alright, so your adviser is... Mr. Castle?" Albert nodded in response.

"Okay then. Even if you weren't able to register, even if you weren't able to fill in your personal data, you're coming with us." Jeffrey smirked.

"Yes! Thank you, Mr. Rellington!" Albert exclaimed, and Jeffrey laughed at his response.

"Hey, you don't need to call me that. Just call me Jeffrey, okay? During training and matches you can call me 'Commander' or whatever you want."

Albert nodded again. He was comically acting like an obedient dog that Jeffrey could pet anytime.

"What's your desired main role and secondary role anyway?"

"Well, I'm uh, looking forward to being a gunner on the team. I-It doesn't matter what type of tank, I just want to be a part of the team as a gunner in general."

"Secondary skill?"

Albert answered with a surefire look on his face. "I just want to be a gunner!"

 _"This guy only wants to be a gunner? He's pretty confident, I'll give him that. I wanna see if he can prove that he's only fit for gunnery."_ Jeffery thought to himself. "Well then, you just want to be a gunner? I'll personally check if you're competent at it." Jeffrey grinned.

"I'll prove my worth, Mr- I mean Jeffrey."

"Alright. We'll be boarding the buses outside by 8:30, so right now talk to Mr. Castle. Tell him I'm personally excusing you, and you're coming with me to Orange County. When he allows you to come, start packing your stuff and board one of the buses for gunners."

"What if he doesn't?" He asked nervously.

"I'm the overall commander. Mr. Castle will let you come since I'm the one excusing you." Jeffery answered confidently.

"Awesome! But, uh, how about Mr. Hamilton? I need some sort of clearance from him, don't I...?"

"He may be the adviser of the team, but dictating whether a student can or can not join the team at the last minute is not something that's part of his role. I'm the head honcho here so, get going."

"Okay! Thank you again, Mr- I mean Commander Jeffrey!"

"You're welcome." As Albert scampered off, the look on his face suggested that he felt like today was the happiest day of his life. Jeffrey felt his sixth sense ring and viewed Albert as some sort of fanboy. He was happy to help out an underclassman, though.

* * *

 **En-route to Eastside Tankery Training Grounds**

 **Orange County, New York, USA**

 **8:43 AM**

One of the many perks Tankery team members had was that they were excused from any class if they had training during the day. It was also one of the reasons why Danson wanted to join Eastside's Tankery team in the first place. During training sessions and tournaments every member of the team was basically exempt from classes of all subjects. In compensation, however, the members had to take special lectures and quizzes on a different date, to ensure that they don't miss out on lessons for examinations and have poor grades.

A bus ride from NYC to the school training grounds in Orange County took only around an hour. Dozens of buses ferry the members and faculty, but one question that lingered was that how were the tanks transported hundreds of miles across New York. Tanks certainly weren't fast enough to be driven on the highway, so when being road transported they were transported via specialized trucks. But when it came to short range airlifting Each school (high school and college level) and team (professional level) was provided exclusive airlifting by the air forces of their countries (in Eastside and Saunders' case, the United States Air Force). Heavy-lift helicopters (predominantly the CH-47 Chinook) were used to airlift lighter tanks, specifically less then 26,000 pounds, to short destinations. Airlifting tanks long range or across the globe was a different matter entirely.

Before the students boarded the dozens of buses parked outside the school, the tanks that were assigned to be used were driven out of the school garages and airlifted to Orange County. In total Eastside had 92 tanks, but 50 was the decided number to be used. Using all of the tanks wasn't exactly a viable choice, and the technical crews left behind at school still needed to spend time to keep the remaining tanks in good condition. All classes of tanks were put to use - light tanks, medium tanks, heavy tanks, and tank destroyers.

The light tanks and munitions were secured and airlifted one by one by Chinook helicopters from an Air National Guard base nearby. Meanwhile the heavier tanks were loaded onto specialized trucks and quickly sent on the road.

Jeffrey was more than excited for today. He would be able to train the entire team for the first time in his life, and all that he needed was the patience and will to do so. First day of training and he didn't want to mess it up. This was a day Jeffrey could not botch, and he certainly didn't want to screw up the day for other people either.

Having boarded the bus assigned for faculty and commanders, he sat with Cutler on the second row of seats, situated on the right side. His backpack was sitting in-between his legs and a metal briefcase, also his, on the compartment above. He tried to take a nap for the only hour of travel time, but his dreams were flooded by the thoughts of Erika, and that damn personality of hers. He squirmed around in his seat trying to shake off the thoughts, but Cutler would come to notice this as Jeffrey struggled to take his desired nap.

"Fuck off Cutler, let me sleep." Jeffrey swore and clutched on a pillow that was provided earlier within the bus.

Cutler snorted and snatched the pillow away from his arms. "You're thinking about Erika again, huh? Are you thinking about her?"

"No, I'm not." The look on his face said otherwise.

"You're not?"

"I'm not thinking about her, okay?" he replied defensively.

"It's either you're still distressed about her or you've already fallen in love." He said with a huge grin on his face.

Jeffrey groaned and felt the urge to pull out his eyeballs in frustration. "I don't know her in person and yet I'm the one with the crush, that's real mature."

He shrugged. "You move in your seat like an earthworm. For all I know, you're thinking of fucking Erika inside a Hetzer." In Cutler's defense, the Hetzer was small and cozy enough for such a thing to happen.

"Shut the fuck up."

Cutler chuckled and reclined in his seat. "But hey, you have to agree, she's really beautiful. German girls are so beautiful."

Jeffery sighed, but relented. "I can agree with you on that. Now please, stop connecting me with Erika." Jeffery paused as he remembered something. "Hey, you said earlier that you would explain exactly who Erika really is. Tell me now."

Cutler shrugged again. "Alright. I'll tell you what I know about Erika. For one thing, before she even took up Tankery in Black Forest Peak she was pretty popular."

"Popular, huh? Enlighten me." Jeffrey was now intrigued. He knew so little about her, and yet she acted like she knew more about him. Even if he was in Tankery in the previous year just like her, it was only now that the spotlight was on both parties.

Cutler looked back on his seat, specifically looking back at Mr. Hamilton, Hubert, and then Grady.

"They did not even bother telling you, huh. You've been with Mr. Hamilton, and you've played with Hubert and Grady since last year."

Jeffrey looked over his seat, then at the same people. "Yes, I've been with Mr. Hamilton since last year, I wanted to ask him about Erika, but he's too busy."

"How about Hubert and Grady?"

"I've been with Hubert and Grady since last year too, but they don't know anything about her and they're just as curious as I am, so no point in asking them. Now can you just cut to the fucking chase?" He asked irritably. All he wanted was some information, and then to go back to sleep.

"Alright," Cutler reached for his backpack and grabbed a can of soda, opening it. "I'll stick to what you need to know about Erika. You already know that she's the overall commander since last year too."

"That's a given."

He chugged on his can of soda. "If you remember the tactics she used, how would you describe it?"

At least Jeffrey remembered. While he was a regular tank commander back then, she was an overall commander. And apart from watching VODs of matches featuring BFP, he was able to recall exactly what were the tactics that she used on the field. "Her tactics consist of tightly-packed formations of tanks, flanking and quick re-positioning. Just... just like the Blitzkrieg."

"Wow, you actually remembered. But you only know her because of the tactics. How about personal information?"

"Personal stuff?" He thought for a moment. "...No."

"Okay, this is going to be interesting." Jeffrey perked up, ready to listen to his vice commander. "Let me start off with some healthy family history."

"Her entire family consists of German Tankery players and enthusiasts, and I'm not saying that lightly. Her mother was a player for the high school division, college division, and even the German national team. Her father on the other hand, was also a former player for the German national team. Played with Erika's mother. He's now part of the ITL as the head for promotional marketing. Her grandparents, uncles, and other relatives are also all former players." He took on another chug of soda as he finished.

The family background alone blew Jeffrey away like an atomic bomb. Another nail for his coffin.

"Well that's just fucking wonderful!" Jefrey swore loudly, and heads turned towards his spot aided by momentary silence in the front of the bus. Mr. Hamilton arched forward to tell Jeffrey to simmer down with the swearing, to which Jeffrey apologized after. Cutler broke into a crippling fit of silent laughter and nearly spilled his soda in the process.

He calmed down after a minute, putting on a serious look. "Look at me. Do you think I'm spouting pure shit? I'm not. This is true."

He let the back of his head hit the seat. "I am so, so boned."

"Don't say that. You always assume that you're going to lose to her so quickly."

Jeffrey understood that easily and nodded, moving on to a side-question. "Are there any Wittmann family members in the military?"

He nodded. "Erika's father is also a corporal for the German Heer. Operated a Leopard 2A5. She has an aunt in the Bundeswehr too, a tank commander for a Puma."

 _"And here I am, with only my father and uncle in the Marines. Damn, Erika and her family are tank freakazoids."_ Jeffrey thought to himself.

"Anything else you'd like to add?"

"The Wittmann family is wealthy and they have close ties with the German schools and the ITL." Considering how prominent the Wittman family was in German Tankery, one could assume that each family member has at least studied in either Black Forest Peak Girls' High, or Munich Boys' Academy.

"Alright. Move on."

"You should have known about this before but, she's into singing. Her voice is nice and she can sing English songs well, too." While talented in Tankery, outside of Tankery Erika also had a natural talent, and Cutler was one of the many people to bear witness to it.

"I didn't know that. Are there videos of her singing?"

"Sadly, no. But, I was at last year's commander-only party in Japan with Robert. Erika was having a blast with the karaoke while she drank sake. We all lost our shit back then." He smiled sheepishly, remembering one of the very rare moments of Erika's awkward side.

Jeffrey snorted and laughed. "Sake? Man, you guys definitely have a lot of fun in these commander-only parties."

Commander-only parties were a traditional occasion after Tankery tournaments. Each division had its own commander-only party, and the commanders and vice-commanders from the different teams mingled. Tankery was also about creating good relationships, and the commander-only parties were one of the ways people of different nationalities connected.

"Yeah, we do. And cheer up, since you're the overall commander now, you'll be able to join this year's party."

Jeffrey smiled. "Looking forward to it. But I'm not singing though."

Cutler rolled his eyes, oblivious to the fact that Jeffrey was already relentless to not sing. "Who even said you're required to sing?"

"No one, but I'm just saying that I'm not singing." The two laughed in unison.

"Now, here's one more fact - she's got a lot of fans. Just a week after last year's tournament, she began to receive a huge pile of fan mail. More than 50 percent of her fans are German, and you wanna know what's even funnier? A lot of guys are fawning over her."

It wasn't exactly a surprise since one of the things to expect after winning the tournament was sudden popularity. But to Jeffrey, a first-time overall commander, it was a surprise. The thought of receiving fan mail from thousands of people, preferably girls his age, was irresistible. Winning the tournament now felt like a Hollywood-level merit for Jeffrey. He flinched in his seat, looked at Cutler straight in the eyes, and simply gave the most generic reaction possible, that being, "No way."

Cutler chuckled. "Feeling jealous all of a sudden, huh?"

"No, I'm just surprised. She's like a freaking princess."

"This ain't no surprise. When a school wins the tournament, the overall commander gets the largest amount of attention. You win two tournament titles? Double the fun. How about three times in a row? You're a fucking rockstar in your country." Cutler explained.

"Oh." Jeffrey mumbled like a seven-year old, fully understanding what he meant.

"Also, expect interviews on TV shows, expect sponsors for different brands, but above all, expect to have fans."

"Ohhhh." And the thought even ran wilder in Jeffrey's mind. A sinister smile grew on his face. He imagined that once the tournament was over, he would be beating Cutler and Hubert to becoming a sponsor for some of his favorite clothing brands. "Good thing I'm the commander and not you or Hubert. I'll be a sponsor for Supreme or maybe Bench."

"Fuck you." Both males laughed for a second time.

"But wait, she's got a lot more fans than previous commanders. I mean she's got like 400 thousand followers on her Twitter. I don't have anywhere near that. Erika being part of the Wittmann family, and the massive fanbase she's got is what pretty much explains why she's a big deal."

"I see."

"Don't forget to take into account that she's really beautiful."

Jeffery rolled his eyes. "That's pretty much why a lot of guys like her in the first place anyway. Hah, looks like I'll be getting the girls when we win. I'm good-looking too."

Cutler snorted and abruptly countered. "Dumbass, you're just a troubled teen. And don't say you're good-looking, no one says that in school."

A third round of laughter erupted from Jefrey and Cutler, and it was loud enough that it grabbed attention to the front part of the bus again. No reprimanding occurred as Mr. Hamilton was tucked-in, fast asleep in his seat, and adding to his inability to sense the duo's big guffaw he had soothing music playing through headphones.

"So now you know everything I know about Erika. That should probably get you prepared."

"Everything? Those were only three facts. Also, what do you mean 'prepared'? For what?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't blame me, that's all I know about her. And I'm doing this to get your prepared for the upcoming tournament. And also, the event when you get to meet Erika in person. Who knows, maybe you two can get it on and have-"

Jeffrey cut him off before he was even able to finish, not wanting to hear the last part. "Okay! Enough is enough. I don't wanna hear any of your bullshit. I only wanted to know personal information about Erika, alright?"

Cutler took another sip from the can of soda in his hand and meekly replied. "Yeah, I get it. When will you make a formal response though?"

"Once we're in Belgium then I'm going to make a formal response. But just so you know, I say yes to her challenge. I'll prove that I'm capable, that I will lead this team to victory."

"Attaboy." Cutler admired Jeffrey's newfound confidence and balled his hand, bumping Jeffrey's fist. "We're gonna win this thing."

"I hope." He yawned, covering his mouth. "Wake me up once we get to the training grounds." Jeffrey stood up, stretching his joints, then sat down for a nap.

"Alright." He passed Jeffrey the pillow from earlier as he proceeded to take a nap as well.

* * *

 **Eastside Tankery Training Grounds**

 **Orange County, New York, USA**

 **9:49 AM**

The routine for today's training was straightforward - it was all about the basics. 1/3 of the Tankery team comprised of graduate students, and now that it was a new school year a significant portion of the team had been replaced by newer, inexperienced members. The remaining 2/3s of the team needed to fill in the newer members for their first training, and they had to do it in a short span of time. Despite this, Jeffrey and the other commanders weren't helpless. The Dye brothers were there as well, the team's newest coaches, at the ready to assist them in training.

Even during training, Jeffrey still felt uneasy from constant talk about him and Erika. Not a single school bus on the highway was clear of fellow students discussing about them, Jeffrey's bus included. Luckily he was able to ignore them all and sleep for the entirety of the trip.

"We're here boys! Everyone grab your things and group up outside!" Browning announced.

After an hour of travel, the buses reached the school's private training grounds in Orange County. Just dozens of miles away from NYC, the area has served as the principal training area of Eastside's Tankery team since the 1960s. Prior to the land being purchased by Eastside it served as a training ground for US armored divisions during WW2. Stretching for a couple of miles, aside for training purposes it could also serve as a venue for showmatches between Eastside and Saunders, or a visiting school from a different country.

All of the buses parked in a concrete-surface parking lot, with the students and faculty disembarking. Located not far from the parking lot were 55 M3 half-track vehicles, used for transportation of both personnel and equipment. The fifty tanks transported via airlift and trucks earlier were visible further away, silently waiting to be used.

"The tanks are over there." Cutler commented as he walked out of the bus and followed Jeffrey from behind.

Jeffrey stretched his joints and took in some of the fresh air. "I missed this place. A lot colder than Florida, huh Cutler?"

"Yeah. Didn't take that long until I got used to the temperature here in New York though."

Once all of the students vacated the buses, Cutler performed a roll call and directed the members to a series of bungalow buildings that contained many different facilities for the team, ranging from meeting rooms, changing rooms, break rooms, munitions storage, and more. Once given the order, one by one the students proceeded to change into their Tankery uniforms in the changing rooms.

Jeffrey proceeded to look for a vacant changing room and began to change. Foregoing the Eastside school uniform and after a couple of minutes of struggling with his body proportions, he was fully-donned in the Eastside Tankery uniform.

Eastside's Tankery uniform consisted of a rugged, olive green tanker jacket, a black undershirt, olive drab pants, and black steel-toe tanker boots. The style was completely reminiscent of US tanker uniforms in WW2. Saunders had the same uniform too, with the only difference being olive-colored shorts exclusive for the girls. The tanker jacket was stylish too, and students wearing it outside of matches was a common sight.

Uniquely, the tanker jacket had patches which served a variety of modest purposes. On the right sleeve was an American flag patch as well as an embroidered logo of Eastside, and on the left sleeve was a large 'white patch' tailored for displaying the following: the wearer's full name, their ID number, and their blood type (A+, A-, AB+, etc.). The blood type was displayed for the purpose of letting medical teams know what the person's blood type is, so provision of blood bags after a person gets seriously injured in Tankery could be done faster. This system was ITL-standard. Tankery uniforms of other schools also had the exact same setup of patches.

Jeffrey's blood type was O positive (O+), meaning that he could only receive blood of the same type, but has the capability to donate to all types of blood.

He then put on the final piece - an Ops-Core FAST helmet. A helmet used by multiple armies across the world, Jeffrey had recently suggested it for use in Tankery, exclusively for the overall commander and vice-commander. Outfitted on it were American flag patches on the hook-and-loop fasteners, a flashlight on the right rail, a headset that ran transversely through the helmet shell, and a forward-mounted camera. The camera was meant for live footage from the commanders' perspectives while inside their tanks.

Once he was done changing he met up with the rest of the group commanders and conducted a quick briefing for no longer than two minutes, covering the routine for the day. Afterwards the group commanders split up in different directions, boarding the half-tracks.

At the exact moment Cutler arrived to pick him up in a Willys MB jeep, which was a vehicle only shared by the overall commander and vice-commander. However, Miles caught up with them before they could even depart. He expressed his interest in hitching a ride and disinterest in trying to fit in the half-tracks with other students, in part due to to his short stature.

"Commander, can I ride along with you and Cutler on the MB, please?" he pleaded with glittering eyes and a child-like voice which irritated all of the commanders except for Calvin.

Jeffrey stared at the space behind him, then back at Miles. "Oh, sure thing! But don't you ever use that voice ever again."

Miles pumped his fist and thanked Jeffrey in the same voice. "Yes! Thank you sir-"

"Ow!" Danson already had enough and proceeded to shut Miles up, hitting his head with a tanker helmet. "What the fuck, Dan!"

"Thank you." Cutler mouthed and gave Danson a thumbs-up.

* * *

 **Building C - Lunch Break**

 **12:14 PM**

The first three hours of gunnery class surprisingly ended up being a success. Each member in the gunnery class was as excited as the next, finally able to take their spot at showing their marksmanship skills. Out of the 53 gunners in the team 15 of them were new members, and Jeffrey enjoyed training them all even if it was a first-time experience. Being at the helm of an overall commander training each and every member may be a lot of hard work, but he simply didn't mind. He could do this all day and all night and not shed a single sweat.

Despite having the bulk of the weight rest on his shoulders, he was filled with pure potential. And he could not put that potential to waste. He knew as well as the school administration that was time for the world to know that Eastside was no longer a laughingstock in American Tankery, nor was it going to remain at the bottom of the scoreboard. The entire world was the audience, and as aforementioned before, he was expected to deliver.

But winning or losing the tournament was not the grand matter for him. What mattered was that he was able to fulfill his dream of being in a Tankery team, in the same position like his father decades ago.

"Uh... Commander Jeffrey?"

Jeffrey had finished training the 15 new gunners for the team, and was currently in the process of having fish and chips for lunch break. He was interrupted by Albert while he idled on his food. He forgot to account for Albert whom he allowed earlier to join the team at the last minute.

"Ah. You again, Albert?" He looked at Albert from head to toe, clad in the newly-issued Tankery uniform. One thing that was missing was the 'white patch' containing the wearer's full name, ID number, and blood type. "I see Mr. Hamilton lent you a uniform, huh? Fits you perfectly."

Albert's eyes widened and he responded gleefully. "For real? You think so?"

"Yes, I do."

"Thank you, Commander!" He smiled warmly and then took off his tanker helmet. "But, this helmet seems like it's too big for my head. Feels like a football helmet for the most part."

"Because of the shell?"

"Nope, I meant the entire helmet in general. However, these flaps are really annoying cause the wind is blowing them around."

Jeffrey scoffed and reasoned out with Albert, despite him having a completely different helmet from the rest of the team. "You'll get used to it. Those flaps are there for a purpose. If you want you can pull the flaps upwards and suspend them over your helmet with the strap. The M1938 is a great helmet, trust me. You don't want to stick with those lame-ass garrison caps and peaked caps used by the German schools, do you?"

Albert was quick to protest and shot back at Jeffrey. "Wermacht panzer caps aren't lame, Commander! They look really cool! Also, Black Forest Peak and Munich Boys' might hate you for saying that the caps are lame!"

"First of all, I know Wermacht panzer headgear looks really cool. But, you should appreciate your country's own designs. Give American designs some love, you know."

"I can do that, Commander, but not the Stuart! I hate the Stuart!"

"Right, everything but the Stuart. That LT's a rusted piece of trash and I'm more than happy to know that we've decommissioned them." Calvin commanded a Stuart during the previous season, but he wasn't around to even overhear the conversation and Jeffrey could care less since Calvin wouldn't react appropriately to his ranting at all.

"Second, I can say 'German tanks are overengineered pieces of trash' and get away with it, because as far as I'm concerned the girls from BFP and guys from Munich Boys' are not in any position to hate me for that. They're not taking what I said with a grain of salt because they know that it's a joke. We can spend hours throwing insults at each other because we're all good friends. We're all like family inside and outside of Tankery."

"Oh, okay!"

"By the way, it's lunchtime, have you eaten already?"

"Yes, Commander. I really like the fish-n-chips. They taste so good."

"Mhm. They taste really good. Don't forget to thank St. Gloriana for these. They have the best cooking club and we're lucky enough to be able to try their fish-n-chips. They come in these nice MRE-style packages too."

Albert leaned forward, and examined the MRE-style packing that the fish-n-chips came with. "You're right Commander, they really paid attention to details on the MREs."

"Yeah." As he discarded his nearly-finished food Jeffrey stood up and gestured to Albert to follow him to the range. "It's still 12:14, so I guess I can spare some time to train you personally. I saw you earlier looking like some lost child wandering around the TC (technical crew) stations while the rest were training."

Albert scratched his head and forced a smile. "I'm sorry, Commander. P-Please forgive me."

"It's alright. You're new to the school, after all. I can understand why you've lost your bearing." Albert smiled warmly, now knowing that whenever he ended up making a mistake, Jeffrey was one to easily forgive.

"What tank are we using, Commander?"

Jeffrey pointed to a batch of Super Pershings in the distance to answer Albert's question. After a couple of seconds walking they were close enough to the batch, then Jeffrey pointed towards a specific Super Pershing unit which bore the digit "1" on the sides of the turret and upper glacis, and white skull-and-bones painted on the front turret face.

"Whoa! Is this your tank, Commander?" The younger male stared at the Super Pershing, eyes gleaming with awe.

"Yep." He leaned against the tank chassis and gave it a hearty pat. "Last season I commanded a Jumbo. Now I got this. Upscaled Pershing variant built to counter the German Tiger II. Additional sloped and spaced armor on the front of the tank, and rolled homogeneous armor on the sides. The best feature, however, is this nasty gun right here." To emphasize his definition of 'nasty', he pointed to the incredibly long T15E1 90mm gun.

"Oh my. Is this, uh, a T15E1, Commander?"

"Correct. 73 calibers in length, and it's got much higher muzzle velocity than the M3 on the regular Pershings."

Albert smiled in pure bliss. "One of the few guns that can penetrate the front armor of Tiger 2s!"

"Of course. Even if you use regular AP you'll score a hit on the tank. However, the effective range is shorter if you compare it to the KwK's. Reloading this gun is a pain in the ass for loaders, too."

"Ugh, I hate that!" Albert moaned. Being a bit of a tank fanatic, he was frustrated with the downsides of American tanks and tank guns back in WW2. Jeffrey knew exactly how he felt and could simply empathize with Albert's sentiments to a lesser degree instead.

"I know how you feel, Albert. I'm kind of let down by our tank guns too," Jeffrey replied as he got on board the Super Pershing with Albert. "but you're forgetting, at least our tanks don't randomly have their fucking tracks break off, right?"

"Yep!" He grinned as he quickly caught up with which tanks Jeffrey was mocking.

* * *

 **Static Target Range**

 **12:23 PM**

"This should be easy for you. Turreted tank gun. Show me what you got."

"Right away, Commander!"

As Jeffrey loaded a fresh HE shell in the gun breech, Albert remained still in his spot, nearly fiddling the gunnery controls with overflowing excitement.

"Don't fire yet cause I'm gonna have to pick a target for you." As Albert nodded in response, Jeffrey then hopped out of the commander's hatch to survey the landscape ahead of them. There wasn't exactly anything hardcore, just a small grassy plain scattered with dozens of wooden and metal targets to shoot at. Some of the targets were blown apart from earlier use.

Using his field binoculars, Jeffrey scoped out to pick a suitable target for Albert to shoot at. He ended up picking a 3-inch panel of steel within the 80 meter mark and Albert complied with his commands, quickly adjusting the azimuth of the gun.

"May I fire?"

"Yeah. Fire when you're ready."

Albert got a bit tentative with the fire controls for a couple of seconds before mustering some confidence. Then, with one pull of the tank gun's trigger, the 90mm gun fired away, launching the HE shell at immense speeds. The Super Pershing shook upon exit of the shell, which caused Albert to experience ASMR. Jeffrey crawled out of the commander's hatch and waited for the smoke to dissipate before checking the target. The shot was perfectly placed, landing dead center as the massive explosion burned and tore the metal target apart.

It wasn't exactly anything pleasing since the target was very close, only sitting at the 80 meter mark. But a thrilled, then joyful expression grew on Albert's face as he experienced his first time to fire a tank gun.

"Wow... I actually hit it!" He rose his hands, feeling dominant over a single short-ranged shot.

"That target was only at 80 meters. Not the time to celebrate yet, Albert, cause I'm gonna pick farther targets." "First shot's a charm." Jeffrey remarked and loaded in another HE shell. He then selected a target further by the 200 meter mark.

"I-It's my first time to actually fire a tank gun, Commander. I was just so excited over firing that I could have missed that one." He replied.

"Well, what can I say, you're now living the dream." Jeffrey smiled. "But don't get too excited, gunnery requires way more than just practice."

Albert nodded, all ears to Jeffrey's teaching.

"Let's move to the 200-meter mark. All of the targets are wooden ones so we're using HE. Adjust your elevation." Jeffrey commanded. Albert quickly complied and looked through the gunsight whilst adjusting the gun's elevation.

"Pick your target." Albert turned the turret to the left, aiming at a wooden crate with a bulls-eye painted on the front face.

Jeffrey requested for Albert to move over, then as he moved over, he proceeded to look through the gunsight to see if Albert's targeting adjustment for a 200-meter target was correct.

"Okay, you're a little bit high on the target. This gun's got really high muzzle velocity so you don't need to compensate more for the trajectory of the shells."

Albert apologized for the minor mistake. "Ah, I forgot about that! Sorry, Commander."

"It's okay. Just change the depression then fire when you're ready."

Jeffrey swiftly peeked out of the commander's hatch, using his binoculars to catch a glimpse of the shell impact. Albert complied with his instructions and after making micromanagement with the aiming, he fired away. The HE shell propelled swiftly out of the gun and flew towards the wooden target. Within a couple of milliseconds the HE punched through the crate and landed on the uphill ground behind it, blowing up. The turret's azimuth started to change as Albert eagerly picked another target.

"Nice shot, Albert. You hit the target at 200 meters real good. Keep it up."

Albert smiled gleefully, appreciating the praise being given to him by his overall commander. "Yes sir!"

Jeffrey opened up the breech, the spent cartridge getting ejected and a new HE shell loaded. "Again, no need to compensate for trajectory, this bad boy has high muzzle velocity."

"Got it, Commander!"

The two went on with target practice, and the private training session rolled for a total of thirty minutes. With over 50 HE shells expelled and counting, Jeffrey continuously evaluated Albert's marksmanship, all the while loading in shells for the gun, selecting targets for him to shoot at, and giving essential tips for him as he made micromanagement.

Despite being nervous at first, right after the fourth shot Albert regained his confidence and went on a sniping streak. All of a sudden it was an eye-opener for Jeffrey as the farther the targets were, the more accurate Albert became. Even if targets were in excess of over two thousand meters, he managed to hit the targets with pinpoint accuracy. The mixed bag of steel and wooden targets still fell victim to Albert's marksmanship.

 _"He's too good for this shit!"_ Not having enough of Albert's display of pure marksmanship skills, he began to draw comparisons between him and other team gunners in deep thought.

But it was too early to compare Albert to the other gunners yet. It was the first day of training, and a passive one. The outright raw way of seeing if Albert was the best was through a practice match. The first practice match of the team was on Friday and a practice match was the proper way in evaluating a person's raw skill.

A streak of realization then hit Jeffrey - if he wanted to evaluate Albert to the fullest, he had to make him his gunner. His last gunner, Shawn, was no longer a part of the team, having graduated during the previous year. For this year Jeffrey needed a new gunner; he either had to pick a new gunner from the 15 new individuals, or select from the legacy (11th grade-12th grade) batch of gunners. Given his current position he did not have to struggle with long crew transfer times, cause all he had to do was just take his pick and a gunner would be his in an instant.

Still, Albert was ahead of every single gunner in the team. Who else could have known about it? A 10th-grader comes and approaches Jeffrey from out of the blue, asking for a chance to join the team, and ends up skyrocketing in secret. Jeffrey felt like he had been blessed by the Tankery gods. All that he just had to do was to go for him. He had to choose him as his new gunner.

"Commander? Are you okay?" Albert tugged at Jeffrey's sleeve, shaking him out of his trance.

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and directed his attention to Albert. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay."

"I uh, already hit the Panzer III. 2,200 meter mark."

He hurriedly grabbed his binoculars and peeked out of the commander's hatch to verify if Albert hit the target.

The target? A mock-up of a Panzer III made of scrap metal. Not as fully armored as the original, only built for practice. The position of the target? A turret-down position, only a minuscule 1/3 of the turret exposed while the rest of the tank was concealed behind a pile of logs. And even at 2,200 meters, Albert still hit it, the HE shell landing exactly on the front turret face.

With his mouth hung open in total awe, Jeffrey activated his headset and contacted Cutler as soon as possible.

"...Cutler? Come over to the static target range. Now."


	4. Time To Train, Part 2

**Static Target Range**

 **12:57 PM**

The sudden booming sound of the Super Pershing's 90mm gun interrupted the entire team's luncheon, sending most of the students into a panicked disarray.

Normally such sounds wouldn't be all that surprising at a tank range. But as part of the ITL's long list of rules, a cease-fire was supposed to be in place during break time, with all tanks absolutely facing away from the direction of the buildings. If one of the tanks managed to come under the control of the wrong hands and was fired indiscriminately, the shells could strike the buildings and cause severe damage. While Jeffrey was not the first to be under command when the rule was broken, being the overall commander meant that he was at a huge risk of losing his position and possibly being ejected from the team. All of the members, from the rookies to the legacy members, with their experiences of enjoying fish-n-chips from St. Gloriana now ruined, notified Cutler and the two coaches about the situation.

Being swarmed by lots of teammates speaking at the same time made Cutler instantly pissed. He yelled at the top of his lungs, ordering the entire crowd to shut up then listened to a single member. Once comprehending what the situation really was, he then questioned Jeffrey on the radio about why there was a Super Pershing firing from a range.

"Sir? There's a tank firing from either one of the ranges! What's going on?" Cutler asked with a slightly panicked voice.

Jeffrey quickly came to realize the violation he had just accidentally committed - not abiding by the cease-fire rule. He swore loudly and gestured to Albert to not fire the next shell. "Albert, don't fire! I forgot about-"

"Hey kid, what's going on out there? You know people can get killed here!" He startled at the voice of his coach joining in the radio frequency. Although Browning was not the type to angrily scold high school students, he was very, very serious about the current matter.

Jeffrey's eyes widened and quickly apologized. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Browning! The shots are uh, coming from my tank! I'm not firing indiscriminately, I swear! My tank's facing away from the buildings!"

The coach sighed over the radio and responded in a soft tone. "Jeffrey, please don't do that again. You almost had everyone here running for their lives. I thought someone was going to go on a rampage with a tank or something."

His breathing slowed down to a normal rate and he apologized again. "Yes, Mr. Browning! I'm sorry! I'll explain what's really going on later! I'm serious!"

"I'm serious too, Jeff. Give me a moment."

The overall commander gulped and sank in his seat, having no more words to say. His time as commander could have ended right then and there. But fortunately, his reputation had been saved by the bell. Browning simply announced that the problem has been taken care of, making an excuse that select members of the technical crew were testing a tank gun with his permission. He was well aware that a person like Jeffrey would have a valid reason for his actions. The members, some still confused about what really was going on, just shrugged and went back to their food. Once the atmosphere had calmed down he then returned on the line and continued to question Jeffrey.

"If you think I'm gonna let you end up getting kicked from the team, then you thought wrong. You're not like the previous commanders, and we need you. The school needs you, kid. Don't blow it." Jeffrey sighed in relief, coming down to the realization that he wasn't in real trouble. He owed one to Browning now. That was a fact, and he knew Browning knew it. The man had just let his colossal mistake pass because if he were to be ejected as a result of it the team would've descended into chaos. "Now then, explain to me why the hell you're firing your tank's gun."

Jeffrey scratched his head and thought of the right choice of words for his reply. "Uh, I'm training someone in secret, sir. But I need you and Mr. Webley to come over here at the STR as soon as possible, 'cause this is pretty big. I'll have Cutler come too. Please don't bring anyone else with you; I want to keep this a secret for now." answered Jeffrey.

"Training someone in secret? You could have told me about it before."

"But the one guy I'm training right now is the newest in the gunnery group, Albert Orville. This entire thing was spot-on." He reasoned.

"You just picked him up this morning, right? Why is he that big of a deal?" He questioned with notable confusion.

It was better for the coaches to see for themselves. He wanted them to be just as surprised. "I've already said that you and Mr. Webley should come here as soon as possible, sir. Better for you to see why in person."

He sighed. "Very well. Well, my brother's currently out, so I'll wait for him first and then we'll come. Everything's back to normal here, but keep in mind that no one knows that you were the one causing the shots."

"Understood. Thank you so much, Mr. Browning. Over and out."

Jeffrey then resumed communication with Cutler, who had overheard his conversation with the coach. "Cutler? You there?"

"Sir? Is that true?"

There was a long pause before Jeffrey responded. "Yeah. Again, don't tell anyone. Only you and the coaches will come here. Any questions?"

With no questions asked, Cutler complied. "No, sir. I'm on my way now. Over and out."

Jeffrey shut off his headset, then turned to Albert.

"Looks like this was a bad time to fire a tank gun... am I wrong, Commander?" Albert chuckled nervously.

He leaned against the side of the tank turret and rubbed his face. "No, you're right about that. I just broke the cease-fire rule. Luckily, Mr. Browning covered it up for me so I won't get kicked out of the team or anything."

"What is the, uh, cease-fire rule, Commander?" asked Albert.

"Section 3 of the Team Training and Match Rules states that: An automatic cease-fire is to be in effect during preparation times, breaktimes, post-match times, and emergencies. Firing during these times would result in the suspension or ejection of a member/members from the team." Jeffrey was quite knowledgeable about the ever-growing rules and regulations in Tankery, in contrast to most of the previous overall commanders of Eastside. His father not included.

"It would suck really, really bad if you were in fact ejected from the team, Commander." Ejecting a Tankery prodigy like Jeffrey would be too much for a struggling team. And the ejection was just recently averted.

"You don't say."

Regarding ejection from a team, Albert switched up to the subject and asked a question. "If you get ejected does that mean you can't play Tankery ever again?"

Jeffrey shook his head. "No. Being ejected only means you can't join the same team ever again. You can play Tankery but on a different team, if it's professional-level, and on a different school if it's high school and college level." One thing that he forgot to mention was that the salaries of recently-ejected players from professional-level teams were also most likely to drop. In contrast to the high school and college levels, professional Tankery was taken very seriously.

Albert understood his explanation and asked a side-question. "What if it's your last year in college or high school and you get ejected from your team?"

He shrugged. "Then you can't really do anything about it. You'll have to advance to the next division to play Tankery again."

He nodded understandingly. "I get it now. Thank you, Commander."

"Anytime." Jeffrey pulled out his phone and looked at the time. The time displayed was "1:03 PM". While the coaches and Cutler weren't around yet, he decided to take the time learning why Albert was so good in gunnery. "I'd like to ask you a question if you don't mind."

Albert allowed him to ask away, a huge smile on his face. "I don't mind! What is your question, sir?"

"Earlier, I let you join the team because one, I didn't want to be such a dick and reject you. I already said that there were still spots on the team, right?" Albert nodded.

"And two, with your level of eagerness and excitement I thought maybe you really have some potential at your chosen role. But when you hit targets over two kilometers so easily, I have to admit I was blown away. No one, and I mean no one in our level can do more than two kilometers with that level of proficiency. So are you that good?"

The majority of engagements in Tankery normally occurred well under two kilometers ,depending on the place where the match was held, and engagements any further than that distance were rare. There was the possibility of an even better gunner, but Jeffrey had already dug into countless VODs of matches before and concluded that Albert was, in fact, the only one really capable of such immense accuracy.

The arrival of Albert couldn't really be considered as the key or missing piece for the team's success for the current season. As Jeffrey had said before, the team needed to move on from its ineffective and humiliating game-sense in order to secure such a victory.

"Just how in the hell do you hit a Panzer III in turret-down position from over two kilometers away?" He emphasized the feat by spreading his arms widely inside the tight interior of the Super Pershing's turret. Tanks in hull-down position or on the move were difficult but manageable for gunners, but turret-down position, on the other hand, posed a bigger challenge. Unlike the hull-down position, which showed the turret to the enemy but hid the hull, the turret-down position basically hid the entire tank from view. The turret-down position was extremely advantageous due to the fact that the tank was able to scope the surrounding area (via commander's periscope, if the tank had one) while the rest of the turret and hull were protected by some form of cover. In addition to the difficulty of hitting a minuscule portion of the target, gunners had to compensate for other factors such as range.

"Well, I uh, I have been playing a lot of tank sims since I was 13, Commander." While it was true that tank simulator games weren't enough as a driving force for the development of aspiring Tankery players, they were helpful to a certain degree.

He was skeptical of Albert's statement. Being borderline accurate all because of tank simulators was a pretty sketchy thing to say. Gunnery required mathematics, because of the velocity and distance calculations and whatnot. "Tank simulators? Seriously? You do know that you don't automatically qualify as a gunner just by playing tank simulators, right? This requires mathematics."

"I'm fully aware of that. And I've already got the mathematics part covered, Commander." He gave a pleased smirk.

"So you've- Wait a minute." Jeffrey paused then wagged a finger at Albert. Albert leaned forward towards his commander. "You've been making very accurate calculations all this time? All this fucking time? Without writing things down or saying them aloud? You've been doing this all in your head?" Albert nodded his head.

He smiled slyly and proceeded to hit Albert with a random math question to test his intellect. "A shell is traveling at 1,500 kilometers per hour at a target two kilometers away. How long does it take to reach it?"

Albert answered practically instantly. "Assuming values are exact, approximately five seconds.

He slumped in his seat. _"Fuck me."_ Jeffrey's eyes widened. "I'm amazed, Albert. I'm officially amazed." Then he frowned as something came to mind. "Wait, does that mean you were just screwing around with the first shots? You were definitely acting out that 'Wow, I actually hit it!' part earlier."

He chuckled at Jeffrey's remark and insisted that he was actually nervous. "No, Commander! I just said that it was my first time to fire a tank gun. I was actually pretty nervous."

"Oh, okay. Seriously though, you're really good. I'm looking forward to seeing more from you."

Albert replied in a hyped tone. "Well, thank you, Commander! But honestly, sir, I wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for you! I've been following you ever since I found out about you. Watching you showing off your skills at a young age is what really inspired me to take up Tankery. W-When I heard that you were going to enroll in Eastside, I decided to follow you the next year so I could be able to play with you! And, after I did enroll, when I came to personally ask if I could join the team, I thought I wasn't gonna be able to, but at the last minute... oh my god, you actually accepted me! You accepted me in the team!"

Turns out that Albert was a 'fan' of his. His starstruck nature brought a smile to Jeffrey's face. He couldn't believe that at such an early point in time he had been a huge influence on his soon-to-be tank gunner. Being an inspiration for other people to join Tankery was a complete honor, and despite the incoming sandstorm of challenges, he nevertheless looked forward to inspiring many more people through his actions.

"This is more than a dream come true for you, apparently. I have an offer for you though."

"What is it, sir?"

"From now on, would you like to be a part of my crew as the gunner?" Albert's unspoken dream just came true. He was just offered the option to join Jeffrey's crew, and he was quick to accept. The 10th-grader burst with joy, now having the privilege to serve under Jeffrey's command. Ironically, this was also the fastest recruitment that had ever occurred in the history of Tankery, with Albert joining, picking a role, and being assigned to a tank in the span of a single day.

"YES!" Albert shouted and rose both of his hands in the air. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you-"

The boy continued until he ran out of breath, and inhaled deeply, gasping for breath.

Jeffery stared at him. "Are you done now?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Alright, good. Now we're in business."

"By uh, by business, do you mean I'll be able to talk with you and the others, C-Commander?" Albert hastily pulled out his phone but stopped half-way, awaiting Jeffrey's answer. "Don't worry! I-I'm not gonna spam you or anything! I'm just looking forward to communicating, that's all, sir!"

Jeffrey nodded and pulled out his own phone. "Of course you can add me. Just keep in mind that when the Busy status is up I'm busy for real."

* * *

 **1:24 PM**

"You're serious, Commander?"

"Yes, I'm serious." Jeffery answered with a matching tone.

Cutler pointed at the same mock-up Panzer III target from earlier, eyebrows furrowed. "So the new guy just hit that Panzer III, in turret-down position, that's sitting over two kilometers away, sir?" The Dye brothers, in perfect sync, turned their heads towards it.

"Yep. I got binoculars right here if you don't believe me. You'll see the hole. Crispy clean accuracy."

Cutler grabbed the binoculars out of his hands and inspected the mockup tank. Upon noticing the impact point, he shook his head.

"Unbelievable. And he's the guy you just recently allowed in the team?"

He nodded. "Yep. He may not look like it, but he's a magician. He can do the math quickly." Jeffrey gestured to Albert, who was standing behind him fidgeting. He then turned to the coaches, starting with Browning. "What do you think, Mr. Browning?"

Browning walked towards Albert and proceeded to drape an arm over his shoulders. "Albert's more than just welcome to the team. Too bad I wasn't able to get here earlier and see him really perform."

"You already believe what Jeffrey's saying, huh? I'll only be convinced if Albert did the same thing in an actual match." Webley jested.

His brother shrugged in response. "If that's what you say. Got any ideas, Jeffrey?"

Jeffrey thought to himself for a couple of seconds before coming up with an idea to sway the coaches even more. "If you all want to see what Albert's really capable of, then I suggest that we go to the moving target range and have a special gunnery course set up for him. I'm not saying an actual match isn't any better, but please, give some consideration for him."

The two coaches and Cutler grouped up, conversing with each other about the matter.

"Sir, did you just say 'special gunnery course'?" Albert whispered from behind and began to assume about what kind of targets he would be hitting. "What's in it for me, Commander? Are you gonna use quads? Rail targets? Maybe you're gonna use those brand-new remote-controlled Locusts? That's insane!"

Jeffrey turned to face Albert. "You'll see, Albert. You'll see. I bet you can't wait to get some real action, huh?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't eager, Commander."

He smirked. "We'll be having a practice match on Friday, so you better get prepared for it, alright?"

A Cheshire grin broke out on his face. "Yes, sir!"

Jeffery smiled as Albert's hyped personality was completely similar to how his father acted when he started in the team. "You know, my father was just as excited as you when he started as a gunner for Eastside."

He looked over. "Really? Your father is really good too." Albert complimented, to which Jeffrey thanked him for. "May I ask how he's doing this year, Commander?"

Jeffery flinched. "Sorry Albert, but it's a, uh, personal matter."

Albert paused, and nodded. "I understand, sir."

After some time, the two coaches and Cutler all agreed to a specialized gunnery course.

"I take it that you all are saying 'yes'?"

Webley was the first to reply. "Sure. Let's set up a course for Albert. I will be doing the evaluations. The configs for the targets are up to you, but Browning's suggesting that some of them have to be positioned further than two miles."

His brother proceeded to correct him. "Webley. It's two kilometers, not two miles. You're supposed to use metric for the distance." Metric was the standard distance system of units imposed by the ITL, and out of all the 15 countries that participated in high school and college Tankery the United States was the only country that used imperial. As a result, the American participants had to adapt to this standard, and they were able to despite confusion at first. The reasons for this change were because one, ITL technicians (who were predominantly non-American) would inspect each and every component of a tank before a match, including speedometers and rangefinders (to check if there were any illegal modifications made to them), and two, due to the international nature of the sport, American participants would have to get used to the metric system the other countries used, like the difference in distance road signs.

"Right. I'm sorry, I mean kilometers. Further than two kilometers. You can have the targets drive side-to-side, stop-and-shoot, or maybe have them Tokyo drift all over the place, but they have to be pretty far out. Can Albert handle them?"

He smirked. "He's fine with it, Mr. Webley. He can handle them, no problem."

"If he passes my evals then he can be your gunner for the tournament. If he doesn't, then I'll just have him assigned to a different tank. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can see why you want to keep this thing a secret. It would be a shame to lose an advantage by one student deciding to blog about this on Facebook or Twitter, or any other website. If other schools found out about Albert and decided he's a serious enough threat, they'd start to devise tactics to counter him. Probably make you a target." Browning surmised.

"You read my mind, sir. And if someone like Erika were to find out... I don't know what to expect. She'd probably come up with some sort of fool-proof strategy and our efforts would quickly be sent downriver." Jeffery agreed.

"I'll leave it to you, then. It's your choice if you want to reveal Albert's skills or just withdraw him from an active lineup."

Jeffrey quickly countered, uncomfortable with the fact that he had the choice to let Albert go. "No, no, I've already decided that he's gonna be my new gunner, Mr. Browning. But I don't want to have him stay on the reserves. I think I'll have him go easy with the accuracy for the meantime." Masking Albert's capabilities for a short time was probably the safest decision to make. He didn't really trust the others to stay silent about Albert's capabilities, plus he didn't know the stratagems the other commanders would be going for if they ever found out that his gunner could hit their flag tanks at 2 kilometers plus. He would have to play it safe for the first parts of the tournament.

"Alright. Let's get a move on and head to the MTR, Jeffrey. Do you want me to prepare the targets?"

"No, Mr. Browning. I'll do it." Jeffrey answered politely.

The moving target range was not too far from the static one; in fact, it was close enough that they could just ride to the place on Jeffrey's Super Pershing. As the coaches and Jeffrey all boarded the tank, Cutler gestured to Albert to follow suit. "I hope you'll do your best, Albert. We don't really have a lot of good gunners on the team. This is gonna be the biggest year in high school Tankery, and we need all the manpower to make the ultimate comeback. Welcome to the team, by the way." Cutler patted Albert on the back before climbing aboard the tank and extending his arm for him.

Albert grabbed Cutler's hand, and Cutler pulled him up, helping him climb on the tank much easier. "T-Thank you, sir! I'll do my best!"

* * *

 **Moving Target Range**

 **2:08 PM**

Jeffrey didn't want to make the course too demanding for Albert. He may have the skills, but it just wasn't right to go and milk all his accuracy on a specially-made gunnery course. He could at least make it possible so that the course pleased both parties.

From a distance, the Dye brothers supervised the entire flow of operations for the special gunnery course, holding iPads displaying live camera feed from a drone flying overhead. The drone would then be used to get a closer look at the wide variety of moving targets down the range: ten metal sheets running on rails at speeds of up to 15 mph (25 km/h); five pickup trucks modified as mock-up T-34s; five bulldozers modified as mock-up Tiger Is; and five of the school's remote-controlled M22 Locusts moving randomly at a speed of 40 mph (64 km/h).

To top the target selection off, Browning had arranged three of the school's decommissioned M3 Lees in turret-down position behind a dirt incline. They sat at exactly 2,300 meters, well within the effective range of the Super Pershing.

This kind of setup seemed to be too much for the average high school tank gunner, but otherwise Jeffrey was fully confident in Albert. He believed that he could pass their expectations with flying colors, and maybe in the future, he could do the same with the Tankery world.

"All HE and AP shells loaded in the racks, sir!" a technical crew member announced as the Super Pershing's empty ammo racks were refilled with fresh shells.

"Racks 1 and 2 are loaded with what?"

"HE, sir."

"Racks 3 to 10?"

"AP, sir."

"Thank you. You can go back to your station." Jeffrey replied, and the TC member walked away back to one of the multi-purpose buildings.

"Would be nice if we could use stuff like HVAP and HESH." Tankery, being an extreme but ultimately non-lethal sport, was only limited to the use of basic HE, AP, and smoke shells in matches. These were the easiest to modify and when they were modified, they could only stop at a specific point instead of penetrating through a tank's armor completely, courtesy of the specially-developed and lined armor. The rest of the special types of munitions were completely banned from use, regardless of the modifications made to the shells or tank armor they were simply too powerful and just weren't the types of shells to fire at high school and college students.

As he sank into the interior of the tank and closed his hatch, Cutler and Albert followed suit. Jeffrey served as the driver, Albert served as the gunner, and Cutler served as the commander as well as the loader for the gun.

"Who's controlling the Locusts?" Cutler asked as he peered at the moving targets through the small viewing ports on his cupola.

His commander answered. "Mr. Webley's controlling them."

Cutler had a surprised expression. "All five of them, sir?"

"Yeah, all five."

Cutler raised an eyebrow. "He must have fast hands."

"I guess so." He responded.

After a few minutes of intermission, filling in checklists, Browning finally gave the signal for them to begin the course. Jeffrey stepped on the gas pedal and the Super Pershing began to drive down the range. He stopped after a couple of feet and shut off the engine. First up among the wide variety of targets were the ten metal sheets, sitting at distances of 600 up to 1,500 meters each. All of the targets moved side-to-side on their own rails, the electrically-driven motors keeping them mobile.

"Albert, you're up! Metal plates! First one is sitting at 600 meters! Speed is 15 miles per hour!"

"Yes sir!" As soon as Cutler designated the first target, Albert began to steadily move the turret controls, the traverse of the turret matching the pace of the first moving target. After taking enough time keeping his sight on the target, he fired away.

The AP shell flew across the range, hitting the metal target in the center. Both of the coaches were fairly impressed at the first shot, nodding at each other. One target down, and 27 targets to go.

"Good shot, Albert!" Cutler complimented as he moved forward to reload the 90 mm gun, the length of the shell making it cumbersome to load. At least the gun wasn't a T15E2 variant which took even longer to reload because of the two-piece shells.

Albert turned and bowed down. "Thank you, sir!" he joyfully said.

Jeffrey smiled sheepishly as he saw Albert bow towards Cutler. "Albert, if you're going to bow every time you get complimented then you should join the Japanese teams. Focus on the targets." This elicited a chuckle from Cutler.

"Ah, sorry, Commander!"

"AP loaded! Move on to the next one!" Albert quickly looked through the gun sight after Cutler finished reloading. The next target was farther away, sitting at 700 meters and moving at the same speed. Albert made small adjustments with his aiming then fired, and just like the first target, the AP shell punched through it.

Jeffrey looked through the driver's viewport, a small smile forming on his face as he saw the target go down.

"What did I tell you, Cutler? What did I tell you?" he said in a hyped tone while crossing his arms and shaking his head. "This guy's a fucking magician."

Cutler rolled his eyes and replied casually. "Say that when it's an actual match, Commander." He then opened the gun breech and loaded another AP shell. "AP loaded! Next target, distance 800 meters!"

"Got it!" Albert made adjustments with his aiming but for this target, he decided to give the commanders and coaches a show. He proceeded to wait for a couple of seconds then fired the gun, and the AP shell that flew out hit not one, not two, but three of the metal targets, punching through each of them. What's even more surprising was that the targets were precisely 100 meters apart from each other, so there was no doubt that Albert's shot was carefully timed. The remaining target count was now cut down to just twenty-three.

"You have got to be kidding me! How'd he do that!?" Cutler's exclaimed, his eyes wide, and the two coaches jerked backwards, understandably stunned by how the shot was executed.

Jeffrey was also surprised but he simply laughed it off and clapped for Albert. "Nice one, Albert. Three targets with one shell. Fucking spectacular."

"Who is this kid?" Browning sarcastically asked over the radio.

Cutler decided to move on with the trick-shot and proceeded to call out the sixth target sitting at 1,100 meters. Again, Albert casually took it out like the first two targets, and did the same with the seventh, eighth, ninth, and the tenth targets.

The end result left an amused look on the two coaches, and a shell-shocked one for Cutler.

As they steadily progressed with the gunnery course, the farther the targets were, the more obvious Albert's accuracy had become. The reactions of Cutler and the coaches changed from amused to borderline impressed, then to surprised, and finally, total awe. By that point Jeffrey had successfully convinced the coaches enough, and he hoped that he could impress them even more on the upcoming practice match on Friday.

The mock-up T-34s and the mock-up Tiger Is all ended up being taken out with steady precision, no more no less. But when it came to the moving targets, the M22 Locusts, Albert was able to hit all of them, in the one place they least expected: the lower glacis. The Locusts, with their low profiles, moved in randomized patterns, at distances of over 1,000 meters, but Albert's accuracy made its mark and hit them one by one in the lower glacis. Browning could only gasp and move about in his seat, while Webley was at a loss for words.

Once it was all down to the remaining targets - the turret-down Lees positioned at exactly 2,300 meters, Cutler gave Albert a bewildered look, unsure of what to say if he did hit the three targets. The Dye brothers had no response and the radio was simply filled with dead silence.

Jeffrey reclined on his seat and looked over towards Cutler. "Hey Cutler, what's the matter? I know it hurts to see Albert best you at this kind of gunnery course, but did you just find out that he's your long-lost son? There's no way you two are related."

The coaches cracked up and laughed really hard over the radio. Cutler looked back at Jeffrey and gave him the finger.

"Very funny. But you know, sir, I already like him. Disregard what I said earlier."

Jeffrey smirked. "So you're convinced now?" His vice commander nodded in response. "Perfect."

"Let me just..." Cutler grabbed his binoculars and opened the commander's hatch, taking a look at the three Lees at the far end of the range. They were really far out, appearing like pixels on a wide LCD television screen. Albert was patiently waiting for Cutler to call out their relative distance, but there was no marker for 2,300 meters. The three targets were right at the end of the range, and they were nearing the limit of the Super Pershing's effective range. Cutler wanted to see if Albert was able to use his own computing power to determine their distance. He kicked Albert's shoulder to grab his attention. "Hey Albert!"

"What is it, Vice-Commander?" he called out from inside the tank.

"Last targets are those three Lees over there. They're in turret-down position. Can you see them?"

Albert leaned forward and scanned for the tanks through his periscope. "Yes sir, I see them."

"Their range is unknown. Try and determine what their range really is." he ordered with a huge grin.

"Yes sir!" Albert responded lively and looked through the primary gun sight of the T15E1, beginning to calculate the distance. His answer?

"2,300 meters. Just my roughest estimate, sir."

It took his brain only four seconds to process the numbers before he was able to determine the distance of the three Lees. Four seconds.

He was like a math prodigy with that fast of a computation. Most gunners in the high school and college divisions could only calculate distances in eight or nine seconds, but that didn't matter much considering how slow-paced of a game Tankery was. Jeffrey could only feel bad for those that happen to be on the receiving end of his Super Pershing's gun, since the only way they could be able to avoid Albert was to basically strike first or be in a densely-armored tank like the Maus.

Cutler turned to Jeffrey to have Albert's answer verified. "Commander?"

Jeffrey perked and simply crossed his arms while smiling with his eyes closed. He did not give a clear answer. "If he does hit all three of those Lees, then his estimate is correct."

"2,300 meters. Alright." He gulped. "Albert, you know what to do."

"Yes sir!" The 10th-grader began to slowly elevate the tank gun, eyes carefully trained on the gun sight and its distance-finding chevrons. The primary gun sight had 6x magnification, and that wasn't enough to clearly see the Lees' 37mm gun turrets.

"Elevation plus 3 degrees!" Once he stopped cranking the gun controls, Albert did his best to control his excitement and kept his foot off the footpedal that fired the gun. Jeffrey, Cutler, and the two coaches were closely watching. He waited for the order to fire, and as Cutler gave it, he hastily fired away.

The AP shell flew out of the Super Pershing's barrel, and traveled for a couple of seconds before reaching its mark. A large fume of smoke emerged as it impacted. Browning proceeded to take control of the observation drone and approached the first Lee.

Once the smoke dissipated, it was revealed on camera that the AP shell landed right on the 37mm gun turret, partly skimming the dirt incline in front of the tank. A white flag on a metal pole extended out of the top of the turret, indicating that the shot was successful and it would render the tank as "inoperable". Both of the coaches yelled "That's a hit!" at the same time.

"Hell yeah! Excellent job Albert!" Jeffrey said happily and proceeded to high-five Albert. "Now go get the other two!"

"Will do, sir!" He got back to work on the gunnery controls but there was no shell loaded in, as Cutler was idling, acting like his noggin could not process what just happened. "Uh, Vice-Commander? I need a new shell loaded in, if you please..."

"Hey Cutler," Jeffrey called out, crossing his arms. "You got them Desert Storm flashbacks?" He and Albert laughed hard at the joke. Cutler finally responded after a few seconds, quickly loading an AP shell inside the gun breech.

"Sorry." He forced a smile and turned to Albert. "Shell's loaded, Albert. Fire when ready."

Albert nodded and slowly traversed the gun towards the second Lee. Just like the first Lee, it was taken out with an AP shell to the 37mm turret. The coaches stood up, smiling and raising their hands in the air, somewhat 'praising' Albert more. Cutler cracked up a smile as he saw the coaches' reactions.

"Two down, one more to go." Once the spent casing was ejected out of the gun breech, Cutler quickly loaded in the last AP shell. Albert traversed the turret towards the third Lee and fired. All of the three turret-down Lees were taken out.

The gunnery course really paid off, and he had put up one hell of a show. They all ended up seeing more than they expected. Browning and Webley looked at each other, sharing the same thoughts about Albert. Albert had done more than just impress the coaches. He had gained their approval.

Getting accepted in the team, gaining the trust of the commander and vice-commander, and gaining the approval of the coaches in a single day was a feat only a handful of people could make. Albert was a player with overflowing talent, like Jeffrey himself. However, Jeffrey knew very well that Albert couldn't be used as the team's "trump card" with his accuracy. Tankery was a team sport, and virtually no one should be relied on to carry an entire team.

"Mr. Webley? What do you think?" Jeffrey began to question Webley, whose view of Albert had changed considerably.

"He's incredible. So incredible. That's all I have to say. He can be your gunner from now on."

Albert beamed as soon as he overheard Webley's decision to accept him as Jeffrey's gunner. Jeffrey looked back at him and smirked while thanking Webley over the radio.

"I knew you could do it, Albert." Like a parent, he was proud of Albert.

* * *

 **Old Mitchell's Pizza Parlor**

 **Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA**

 **6:52 PM**

The first day of training was finally done. Eight hours of training had Jeffrey all pent up. He had spent lots of time, keeping everything in order and in stellar condition for the team. He had done so much, and he simply left whatever he lacked the time to handle for the day to Cutler and the group commanders that remained for maintenance duty in Orange County. All that he wanted to do was just go home and straight to sleep once he got on the bus back to New York City.

But he couldn't. In the day, he had school and Tankery, but in the night, he had a part-time job. After arriving, instead of going to his home in Brooklyn, he went to Manhattan to tend to his job.

Students from the 30 top-tier high schools all over the world were generally from well-off families. That's not to say that Jeffrey wasn't from a well-off family himself, but he was the only member of his family living in the house. Aside from Eastside's tuition, there were also the expenses for food, electricity, water, cable, and other expenses. To pay for all of them, his uncle who served as a major in the Marines sent him money on a monthly basis, a maximum of $6,000.

That was, until now, that the number of money his uncle sends him began to decrease in amount. His uncle had reasoned that he was only able to send less money, due to his schedule becoming even tighter. To compensate for this, Jeffrey had to start working part-time to earn extra money. He had landed a job at a small but popular pizza restaurant named "Old Mitchell's Pizza Parlor" just a couple of blocks away from Times Square.

Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, he worked as a cook at the restaurant from 6:30 PM to 12 close. Having a part-time job right after training or school was simply a lot to bear, but Jeffrey did not fret about it. Despite being deprived of enough sleep the following day, he was just as hard-working as ever.

His popularity as a Tankery prodigy and overall commander of Eastside's Tankery team had also carried over to his workplace. Oftentimes customers grabbed opportunities to take photos with him, which his employer found amusing since Jeffrey fairly disliked this type of public attention. He had also formed new friendships with his co-workers, some of which were just the same age as him.

As long as he kept working, he should be fine and able to pay his expenses fair and square. He had no idea when the time will come where his beloved uncle completely stopped sending money to him, and it was going to be problematic when it did come.

While peppering a thin pan of crust with various toppings, Jeffrey felt his phone vibrating within his pocket. He pulled it out and it was revealed that his uncle was calling. He requested for somebody else to take over the pizza he was handling, then as someone did took over, he proceeded to tell his employer that he needed to go and answer a call. He was given permission to do so and he quickly went out the back of the restaurant.

He tapped on the screen to answer the call and brought up the phone to his ear. "Good evening, Uncle George." He greeted.

"Good evening, Jeffrey." His uncle, George Rellington, answered on the other line. He was the older brother of Jeffrey's father, and he acted like Jeffrey's second father, supporting him over the past ten years, from his stellar start as a Tankery prodigy to his enrollment at Eastside. Apart from being a major in the Marines, he was also one of the representatives from the ITL's American Tankery committee.

"I haven't heard from you in like two weeks. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Uncle. How about you?"

George replied. "Same here. How did training go today?"

"It was pretty great." He smirked.

George chuckled. "Great, huh? Tell me about it."

Jeffrey thought to himself for a bit, deciding on whether or not to tell his uncle about Albert and his gunnery skills. He then decided not to, for now. "Uh, I'm at work right now and I don't really have that much time to tell you everything that happened for today, Uncle. All I can say is that a LOT of great stuff happened during training. It was a bit stressful sometimes, but I had fun nonetheless."

"That's nice. Any problems that arose with your team?"

"None so far. It's just basic training drills for today until Thursday, and we're having a practice match with the girls from Saunders on Friday."

"Nice. I'll be watching the broadcast. Go show them what that Super Pershing's really made of." he said enthusiastically and chuckled.

Jeffrey chuckled as well. "I love my new tank. Gotta get used to the small space though."

"Those one-piece shells are really hard to load, huh?"

"At least they're not two-piece, Uncle. It would feel like operating a KV-2." They both laughed. "I'm loving it here."

"Good. Your dream of being in Eastside and being the Tankery team's overall commander has come true. All those years paid off very well, am I right?"

Jeffrey smirked. "They really did."

"If he was still here, your father would be very proud of you."

"I know, Uncle." Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them off to prevent them from dribbling down his face. "He would."

"Anyway, aside from training, how are your studies? Are you doing well in class?"

"Yep. Last week, we had a really long quiz in History. All of us only had like, three days to review. I ran on coffee while I studied during Wednesday night, and when I did the quiz on Friday I got a perfect score."

"Whoa, that's very good, Jeff. Keep it up."

"Uncle George, are you coming with us to Belgium on the 29th?"

"Sadly, I can't. I have a lot of stuff to do here in D.C. But I'll try to go there on... maybe October 10 or 11."

"Okay."

"You got your passport and athlete visa ready?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Just stick to whatever Mr. Operan's gonna say. Make the most of your time when you arrive, do your best in the tournament, but above all, take good care of yourself, alright?" He advised.

"Will do. I'm uh, gonna go now cause the restaurant's got a lot of hungry customers. Goodbye, Uncle."

"Goodbye, Jeffrey. Tell Mr. Simeon I said hi."

"I will. Bye."

Jeffrey hung up first, and put his phone in his pocket before going back inside the kitchen.

* * *

 **Marriott Marquis Washington DC**

 **Washington D.C., USA**

 **7:00 PM**

Even if it lasted for only a couple of minutes, it was still worth it being able to talk and check in with his nephew. Although Jeffrey was capable of living on his own, he still had the need to keep in touch with him. He had his own family; a wife and two daughters himself, but he had always considered Jeffrey as a huge part of it. He could never forget to make a call and ask Jeffrey about how his day had been at school and work back in New York.

Just a minute after his call with Jeffrey, another call came about. It was Messenger-based, and the caller was one particular German high school tanker - Erika. The timing.

The connection might have been uncanny, but the Rellington and Wittmann families knew each other. Despite them being from two different countries, from two different continents, they all shared the same passion for Tankery. The general question was how did they met before. To answer that question, families with the most skilled Tankery players in the world have a get-together every year (similar to commander-only parties, but on a larger scale). One of those families happened to be the Rellington family, from the United States, and the Wittmann family, from Germany. The German family was visibly the wealthier family and the one with a rich history, in comparison to the American family.

The most notable people among the Americans were Jeffrey's father and George. On the German side, there was Erika's father, Erika's mother, and a couple of their relatives who were also Tankery players and enthusiasts. As both parties have played against each other in the high school and college leagues before, they had also came to regard one another's skills. Eventually they had formed friendships and were able to stay in touch with one another, even to the present day.

Does it also answer why Erika acted like she knew Jeffrey very well? No.

 _"Oh, it's Erika. Calling from tomorrow right now? I'm surprised she's still awake."_ George smiled to himself and answered the call.

"G-Good evening, Uncle George." Erika greeted with a long yawn. On the video feed she had a nightgown and was in her bed. While it was 7 PM in Washington D.C. and New York, it was already past midnight where she was in Germany.

He proceeded to greet her back in German. "Guten Abend, Erika. Es ist lange her, seit du mich angerufen hast. Wie ist mein Deutsch?" (Good evening, Erika. It's been a long time since you called me. How's my German?) George was partly fluent in German, having spent some time before in Germany as an exchange student for Munich Boys' Academy.

Erika giggled. "Dein Deutsch ist so gut wie immer, Onkel. Es ist schon so lange her, dass ich dich angerufen habe, aber das... hier geht es um Jeffrey." (Your German is just as good as ever, Uncle. It's been so long since I called you, too, but this call... I'd like to talk about Jeffrey.)

George raised a requited eyebrow, and continued the conversation in English. After the series of interviews she had participated in, he had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask. "Jeffrey? I can't say I'm surprised. Very well. Ask your questions, and I'll answer what I can."

She asked the obvious without a second of hesitation. "What are the tactics that Jeffrey usually employs in Tankery?"

His smile grew into a cheek-to-cheek grin. He knew she was going to ask that question. "You know, it would be unfair to my nephew if I told you about his playstyle. If you really want to see what are the tactics he uses, then wait until he crosses the pond." Oddly enough, there was still no rule prohibiting relatives of Tankery players from divulging the playstyles on various forms of media. She already had the choice to watch the same VOD of Jeffrey commanding his team during one game last season.

"Oh." She now felt like a complete idiot for asking.

"Any other questions?"

"N-No, Uncle." She replied, but paused and then quickly followed up. "Actually, there's one more question that I'd like to ask."

He nodded. "Go ahead."

"W-What's... What's Jeffrey like?" Erika stammered.

He took a moment to think on how to respond to her question. "Hmm. Well, it'd take a while to describe everything about him. But put simply? Jeffrey's very hardworking and determined. When he's got his mind on something, he never loses focus, and its pretty hard to sway him from it. He very committed to things, depending on what they are."

She silently absorbed the information. "What else?"

George paused and gazed at her. "Why are you interested in him all of a sudden?" He asked, startling her slightly with the question.

"Ah, well, you see..." She paused in her struggle to find an answer. "I feel like we've already met before." She finally continued. "But I can't exactly remember if it is him I'm remembering, or a different person. Personality-wise, he seems so familiar to me, Uncle. I mean, you're his blood related uncle, you're the closest thing I have to an actual uncle, and you know my parents. It just feels like there's something missing here, and I feel the need to uncover what it is."

"I see." He remained silent for a couple of seconds, which made Erika worry that she had crossed some sort of line. But he continued. "He's a fairly skilled commander as you might have noticed. I suggest you go watch a VOD of the match between Eastside Boys' High and Trinity Boys' Academy to find out. In one part, he commanded a Jumbo and took on three ARL 44s using a variety of guerrilla tactics. If it weren't for Jeffrey's arrogant overall commander, Eastside would have won the match and moved on to the grand finals." He could see Erika getting a far off look in her eyes as she digested this information. "I know about the challenge that you've issued to him, and I can tell you that he is likely to take it seriously. Especially now that he's the current overall commander of Eastside."

She nodded. "I understand. Thank you for telling me, Uncle."

"You're welcome. Now, go on and sleep. Your parents are going to get mad at you for staying up late."

"Good night, Uncle George."

"Gute Nacht." (Goodnight.) This time, George was the first to hang up.


	5. Saunders Girls' High School

**Madison Square Garden**

 **Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA**

 **12 Years Ago**

 _"Daddy, what is this?" the younger, five-year old Jeffrey asked after coming across a vehicle he had already seen in the form of his toys back home. He didn't exactly know what the vehicle was, but he was facing the real, life-sized version of it._

 _His father smirked and replied slowly for Jeffrey to easily understand. "It's a tank, son." The specific tank model Jeffrey was curious about was an unmarked and rusty Renault FT, a French light tank that was among the most revolutionary tank designs in history. With its features at the time of its introduction, many historians had dubbed it "the world's first modern tank"._

 _The Renault FT was one of the hundreds of armored vehicles on display in the Madison Square Garden arena, as part of an exhibit the father-and-son pair were visiting. Showcasing WW1 and WW2-era tanks, as well as troop transports, there was a lot to see for the patrons, kids and adults alike, that had a knack for historical war vehicles. Jeffrey's father was one of the few who were former members of Eastside's tankery team, and that meant free admission for him and his son._

 _Today was the day that he would formally introduce his son to the world of tanks at such a young age, then for the years to come, he would introduce him to the sport of armored combat - tankery. Tankery was a sport that was special to him because of the positive values it brought_ _, and hopefully as Jeffrey grows up he could also learn the same values._

 _Should his son choose to practice the sport in the long-term like him, no problems would ever arise regarding getting in the sport, since he would be the one providing the resources for learning. Tanks won't be an issue as well - his previous high school had that covered._

 _Jeffrey retained the same curious look on his face and approached the rusted FT. He began to examine the tank from all four sides, curious about its components. The elastic cord barriers surrounding the tank meant that he could only observe it from a certain distance._

 _"You can look at it all you want, but no crossing the red barriers, alright?"_

 _"Yes, Dad!" replied Jeffrey, and he continued to examine the exterior of the tank._ _He first took notice of the FT's turret, and it's stubby 37mm Puteaux gun._ _"Daddy! Daddy!" he called out while yanking the textile of the jeans of his father. "What is that?"_

 _He answered. "Jeff, that is the turret._ _It's an important part of the tank. You use it to survey your surroundings, and... blow up other tanks." He forced a smile, hoping his wording was child-friendly enough._

 _A wide 'O' formed on his son's mouth and his eyes widened in wonder. He continued to watch Jeffrey circle around the FT, inspecting every detail on the hull, tracks, and turret._

 _"How does the tank move, Dad? There are no wheels!" The tank did have wheels, just not the conventional ones that he was pertaining to._

 _He chuckled at his son's question and broke down to him that most tanks ran on continuous tracks, and that they moved when the actual wheels connected to the drivetrain of the tank moved. He made an additional explanation that the tracks were needed for better performance off-road._

 _Jeffrey simply responded with a loud "okay" and sucked on a small lollipop that he held. Despite his father's attempt to simplify his explanations, he most likely understood only 50% of his father's explanation._

 _"How would the driver see where he's going? There are no windows!"_

 _In response, he stepped forward and_ _proceeded to point to the driver's viewport, located just a bit below the tank gun, which had its cover lowered._

 _"The driver can still see where he's going, Jeff. The window is right here, but it's currently covered so it looks like the driver cannot see what's in front of him. Okay?"_

 _Jeffrey replied with a smile. "Oh, I see! Thanks, Dad!"_

 _"You're welcome, son."_

 _Seconds later, he stood in front of the tank and eagerly posed, which prompted his father to pull out a camera from a carry bag._

 _"Daddy, take pictures of me!"_

 _"I will, just wait a second! Alright, here we go! Say cheese!"_

 _"Cheese!"_

 _His father snapped three photos of him, then put the camera back in its carry bag. "Done!"_

 _"Thank you!"_

 _"Alright, what else do you want to know about?"_

 _"I want to know what's inside a tank! Can we check the inside?"_

 _His father smiled back, approached him, then kneeled to match his height. "We can't do that right now, Jeffrey. I already told you that we can't touch any of the tanks here. But I have an idea. Next Saturday Daddy will take you to his old high school, and then show you the tanks that they keep in the garages. Yes, you may be surprised but my school has tanks. Once we go there you can do way more than just explore the insides of tanks, and you'll be able to know a lot, alright? What do you think?"_

 _Jeffrey was quick to accept. "Sure, Dad. That's a promise, okay?"_

 _He looked into his eyes and solidified his word. "It's a promise!"_

 _Jeffrey extended his pinky finger towards him to propose a pinky promise, which was also paired with puppy-like eyes._ _"Pinky promise?"_

 _In response, his father interlocked his own pinky finger with his son's, and looked at him straight in the eyes._

 _"Pinky promise."_

* * *

 **Rellington Residence**

 **Brooklyn, New York City, New York, USA**

 **Present Day - 7:00 AM**

Before he could bask even more in his memory of him spending time with his father at a tank exhibit, Jeffrey was stopped by the loud blaring of his bedside alarm clock. His eyes shot wide open as he turned to his side and slammed his fist against the snooze button, as if he was still mashing pizza dough back at Old Mitchell's. An uneasy and frustrated look formed on his face as he secretly wanted to sleep again and return to a state of nostalgia, but today wasn't the right day to do that. He eventually came to his senses, rose from his bed eagerly, and headed downstairs to make breakfast, mind now set on today's schedule.

The tank exhibit event happened way back in 2005, and it was the moment when Jeffrey first got to know about tanks. Out of all the memories of his father, this was one of the few that he cherished the most. As for the pictures he took during their visit? Jeffrey was able to retain them, which were printed and now framed. They were situated downstairs, currently sitting on top of a table in the living room.

For the current occasion, he and his team were going to have a practice match this noon, and their opponents were none other than their sister school: Saunders Girls' High School from San Francisco, California.

If Eastside was the most prestigious all-boys high school in America, Saunders GHS was the most prestigious all-girls high school. The school was founded in the 1950s by Gloria Saunders, a former teacher and former WW2 tanker (also one of the few females to ever enter tank combat back then). With over 3,000 students and 450 staff, they were renowned for a lot of things. Some of the more prominent things Saunders were known for was a 100% success rate for exams, and their highly-skilled volleyball, softball, and tankery teams. The two schools had very close ties, and their students occasionally came over from one coast to another to mingle.

In comparison to the team of Eastside, Saunders' tankery team was slightly stronger. The girls' team had bagged more championship titles (a total of 6 versus Eastside's 3), with one of these against them. Their inventory consisted of solid tank models like the Super Pershing and M36 Jackson, and they were also in the process of foregoing weaker ones like the Lee and Stuart. Tactics at the group level were similar, and when it came to the individual level their members were more skilled than the males in the aspect of gunnery. But the biggest difference was that their team had a more stable organization, which contrasted Eastside's chaotic one that Jeffrey was currently trying to fix. As a result they were the more favored team to win the championship in the views of American tankery analysts and the public.

Their global reputation however, still fell under the notion of American high school tankery "being a complete joke", since like Eastside it's been long since their last championship win and their recent performance has been classified as "below average". During the last season's quarterfinals they had an opportunity to break Black Forest Peak's 7-year (then 8-year) run, but they were unable to as Erika was strong on the throne as the overall commander.

A match between two schools that had the same tanks and similar tactics certainly was going to be interesting. Hundreds of spectators hailing from different parts of the country would be coming to watch the practice match live. Special guests were expected to come and watch the game as well, such as tankery enthusiasts, former Eastside and Saunders players, celebrities, and government officials of the schools' respective states: California and New York. For the rest of the Americans wanting to watch the practice match from within their homes, a livestream of the match on the ITL's official Twitch channel was set to go live in a couple of hours.

Practice matches were a fine way to enhance the skills of tankers. It was commonplace for one school to invite their brother/sister school to a practice match, or if time allowed it, a school from another country. This also allowed players from both sides to familiarize themselves with the opposition's tactics.

The chosen mode for the match was elimination. Each side had 20 tanks in total, and since the match was broadcast live, officials wanted to keep the match going and not turn it into a hide-and-seek game, so the size of the play area was reduced to 7 square kilometers by 7 square kilometers. That meant the area for tanks to move around was smaller, but the vegetation in the training grounds was still plentiful, enough to use as cover. In elimination matches, the goal of a team is to take out all of the opposing team's tanks in order to win. Although flag match was the official game mode for matches in the tournament, elimination was the more popular mode for practice matches.

As he quietly sipped on a freshly-brewed, aromatic cup of Hawaiian Kona coffee, he received a text message from Cutler, notifying him that the female tankery team had just arrived at JFK.

* * *

 **John F. Kennedy International Airport**

 **Queens, New York City, New York, USA**

 **7:33 AM**

Even in the cold, early Friday morning, word of the team's arrival in the busy John F. Kennedy airport quickly spread like a plague on social media, and those already in the airport that received the notice took the opportunity to wait for and welcome the Californians.

On-board an eight-hour long flight from San Francisco SFO to JFK Airport in New York City, Saunders' tankery team with its faculty flew via an American Airlines' 777, while their tanks were an hour behind, transported in three chartered USAF C-5 Galaxy cargo aircraft.

Students who weren't part of the tankery team and simply wanted to spectate the match were travelling separately, spending for their own flights to NYC, with a few exceptions. Even if it was just a practice match, they still brought colorful flags to wave, banners to display, and their high-pitched voices to scream and shout later on.

As soon as proper security measures were finally put in place, the all-female tankery team disembarked and walked through the jet bridge that connected the plane and the airport building. Ahead of them was the commander and the vice-commander, and they certainly were familiar faces from the Bay area. Regular passengers walking alongside the team members, after realizing who they had just been with on the flight, turned and whipped out their phones in utter surprise, proceeding to have quick pictures with the two commanders. Some even had second thoughts on whether to take pictures with them or just mind their own priorities for the Big Apple. Some were business-oriented men and women that did not really follow high school tankery (or tankery in general), so they didn't care.

All of the members sported civilian clothing (Saunders had the same uniform code as Eastside), and the only way they were recognizable as tankery players was by the school-based apparel some of the girls wore, such as letterman/varsity jackets. But if anyone was curious about how their school uniforms looked like, their uniforms were also identical to Eastside's, the only difference being red, knee-length pleated skirts in place of the gray pants.

The overall commander appeared as a tall girl with fair complexion, wavy shoulder-length auburn hair, yellow eyes, freckles, and a pretty large bust, somewhat befitting of a stereotypical Californian valley girl. But she didn't speak in such a way, nor did she have the 'accent'. She just appeared to be very outgoing in personality, social status no clue.

The vice-commander, on the other hand, appeared as another tall girl with pale complexion, black eyes partly covered by her bangs, and waist-length straight black hair in a hime (princess) cut, which gave her the impression of a particular character from a movie titled "The Ring". If JFK had some sort of wishing/replica well inside the terminal jokes would start flying among her subordinates. But even if she had the horror movie getup, she was still very pretty.

"We're here bitches!" hollered the overall commander who was unaware that her adviser could hear her. "New York City!" Some of her teammates (new members, to be precise) cheered in excitement, as it was their first time being in the Big Apple. Today just wasn't the day to have a tour, sadly.

Her vice commander was slightly startled and abruptly shut her up by slapping her shoulder. She seemed to be the type of person who rivaled her commander's boisterous nature. "H-Hey! Ms. Edwards can hear you, you know."

The redhead looked over her shoulder and found out that her adviser wasn't exactly around. "She's not around here."

"Still, she might hear you. Tone it down."

"Alright. Hey, it feels good to be back home, am I right?"

"Yeah. Not much has changed here. Or nothing even changed. It feels the same New York City we've been in last time."

"That reminds me... of Jeffrey's house."

"Jeffrey's house? Ah, right. He says he can't renovate for shit."

Both of them giggled. "Speaking of Jeffrey, should we go and visit him in his house while we wait for our tanks? We have some time to kill, plus you don't know if maybe the tanks are gonna get delayed." The vice-commander asked.

The commander replied with a smile. "Sure thing! It's been years since we visited his house last time, too."

Her vice then sighed in worry as she remembered an incident from their last visit. "The last time we visited you nearly trashed his $30,000 piano, so please, _be_ careful when we get there."

"It was an accident, okay, Sadako? Accidents happen. You don't need to remind me to be careful cause I am careful."

"Sadako" could feel her eyes start to twitch at the nickname. That name must have been in use for quite some time, and hearing it from her commander and friend slightly ticked her off.

Each student proceeded to reclaim their bags from the baggage claim which took less than twenty minutes, and afterwards the team progressed through the arrivals area, which presented three welcoming parties.

They were first greeted by a large exuberant crowd of fans and casual onlookers, but a steady row of airport police were keeping them at bay, countering any person that pushed their way. Majority of the fans were girls and women, some of them fellow Californians, chanting the name of Saunders repeatedly. On the other hand, the male fans were cheering as well, but it was fairly obvious that they were here just because they wanted to see something different from tanks. A handful of them had their attention directed to the overall commander and her enticing looks. The overall commander, without any hesitation, proceeded to wave and send flying kisses towards the teenage boys, which was a huge spike to their hormones.

Her vice-commander cringed at the display. "Seriously? What if your boyfriend sees you on TV acting like that around random guys? He might get mad at you."

"Oh, stop whining, Sadako. This is just a one-time thing." she reassured and continued to wave at the crowd of fans.

"You always say that. And enough with that name already."

The second welcoming party for the team were (mostly) local and international media crews. Cameras with bright lights were directed towards them, and reporters from each news team held out their mics, attempting to grab opportunities for quick interviews. Each question opened up was about the team's preparations for the tournament, followed by questions about the practice match itself. One reporter in particular brought up the highly-debated topic of Erika versus Jeffrey, asking for the opinions of the two commanders, to which the rest of the reporters turned topic and repeated the same question for multiple times. Their adviser, however, urged the girls to not partake in interviews once they arrived, as they were on a rather tight schedule for today, and all the media could only get were pictures of them. They continued on without any delay.

Far away from the crowd was the last welcoming party for the team - a couple of students and faculty from Eastside. They were just as excited as the fans for the arrival of their sister school. Among the faculty was Mr. Hamilton, and the headmaster of the school, Nicholas Olsen. The students, led by Cutler, were part of Eastside's tankery team and were assigned to assist in the offloading of Saunders' tanks. The two teams went face-to-face, and Saunders' founder as well as the adviser of their tankery team approached their counterparts. Cameras from the media crews were trained on the meetup.

The headmaster of Eastside greeted first with the male students looking on with happy faces. "Good morning, Mrs. Saunders. Good morning, Ms. Edwards. It's good to have you here in New York."

The adviser of Saunders' tankery team was a woman dressed in corporate-like attire and appeared to be in her late 20's - Aberdeen Edwards. She nodded firmly and stepped forward to shake the hands of the males. "Good morning, sir. Pleasure to meet you."

The namesake and founder of Saunders' was a short elderly woman with a variety of medals pinned on the right side of her dress' breast and appeared to be in her 90's - Gloria Saunders herself. She walked forward, her back slightly hunched, then shook Mr. Olsen's hand.

"Well, thank you. Good morning to you two as well. We look forward to having a great time with you." Mrs. Saunders replied with a slightly frail voice and smiled warmly. Despite being in her 90's, she was still pretty for a World War Two veteran. Compared to Mr. Olsen, he was around 20 years younger than her, but she looked like she was still capable of operating a tank again.

Speaking of being a World War Two veteran, Mrs. Saunders was a renowed and highly decorated one. Originally a high school teacher, she enlisted in 1942 as part of womens' reserves and saw action in WW2 from mid 1944 (D-Day invasion) to the end of the war. She had faced a lot of obstacles at the time, most prominently gender discrimination. Despite these bitter challenges, she nevertheless made her mark as one of the few American women to ever enter tank combat, racking up a total of 65 armored vehicles destroyed in a M10 Wolverine tank destroyer, and her achievements also serve as a form of empowerment for the young girls now studying in her own school.

"Likewise. Hamilton, give them the souvenirs."

Mr. Hamilton presented two plastic boxes containing 5-inch statuettes of the Statue of Liberty and gave them away. Whenever students and/or faculty of a school were visiting the city-slash-country of another school for special occassions and such, as an established custom the members of the host school gave away local mementos for their visit.

"Here's some souvenirs for your visit. 5-inch Statue of Liberty figurines. Fits well on your desks, tables, whatever you place it on."

The founder smiled in delight. "My, my. Souvenirs. Why, thank you, Mr...?"

"Hamilton, Mrs. Saunders. Hamilton Operan."

"Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. If I remember correctly, you are the adviser for the tankery team, right?"

"That's correct." He turned to Cutler, giving him the go to introduce himself and to drag Mrs. Saunders' luggage on their way out.

Cutler took one step forward, shaking their hands as he introduced himself before taking care of Mrs. Saunders' luggage of two suitcases. "Good morning, Ms. Edwards. Good morning, Mrs. Saunders. Nice to see you again."

"Oh, good morning, Cutler! Nice to see you, young man. Do be careful with the suitcases, they're really heavy."

Dragging the two heavy suitcases along with him, he went further back to meet with the two female commanders who happened to be bickering out of earshot.

"Good morning, you two." Cutler gave each girl a high-five as he greeted them. "Welcome back to New York City.

The redhead smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, dude. Good to see you again and the other boys. Here to offload our tanks?"

He nodded and replied. "Yeah."

"Okay. Take good care of our babies as you roll them out. No scratches."

"Roger that." His focus then ended up on the commander's fair skin. "You've been staying indoors all your life in California, huh? Scared to go outside and get a tan?"

She retorted by gesturing to Cutler's lighter skin tone. "Hey, you're one to talk like that. You're from fucking Florida, why haven't YOU gotten a tan? You're as pale as a damn ghost."

Cutler stared at his skin estrangedly then spread his arms. "I'm not _that_ pale, F. I'm just a few levels lighter than you. And I'm not scared to go outside and get a tan either. In fact, I've been going outside a lot lately."

"I still see no burns on you."

"Neither do I see them on you."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Both persons knew a certain person was being left out on the conversation, and eventually they turned towards the vice-commander, whose smooth, porcelain white skin unarguably topped theirs.

"W-What are you two looking at?"

The school faculty began to stroll towards the exit, with the commanders following behind. In an instant they found themselves being escorted by security, maintaining a gap between them and crowds of onlookers and reporters still making attempts to conduct interviews.

Since Saunders' tanks were still airborne and en-route, they (both teams) all had a considerable amount of time to kill before they arrived. The girls chose to spend time in the local restaurants for breakfast, or in the shops to buy souvenirs, while the boys disappeared to start donning tanker gear prior to assisting in the offloading of the tanks.

"So, how have you been, Mrs. Saunders?"

"I'm doing fine, what about you, Mr. Olsen?"

"Great, actually. I have a lot of great things to tell you about what's going between me and the Department of Education."

"Enlighten me later then."

"So, how was your flight? Hope there wasn't too much turbulence."

"It was comfortable. The turbulence doesn't really bother me."

"Did you get enough sleep?"

"I did, thank you for asking."

"How long will your tanks take before they get here?"

"Maybe an hour. We chartered three Galaxies. One of the planes barely has any space to walk around for the crew." While specialized tank transporters and heavy-lift helicopters brought them to shorter destinations, when it came to cross-country or international transport, schools had to charter cargo aircraft. The two most common aircraft used were C-5 Galaxies operated by the United States Air Force, and An-124 Ruslans operated by a Russian civil airlift company named "Volga-Dnepr".

"Sucks to be part of the crew on that plane. Sucks even more if the tanks are blocking access to the only restroom. Pilots probably must have their legs crossed for seven hours." They both laughed hard, but Mrs. Saunders' laughing was quickly suppressed by mild fits of coughing.

"Did you have your breakfast yet?"

She made a tummy-rubbing motion, giving the implication that she liked the food served on the flight. "Yeah, on the plane. Some of my students may choose to eat by the restaurants though."

"Alright. Now, are your girls ready for the match today, Mrs. Saunders?"

She cracked a smile and answered confidently, as the founder of the school. "Our school is the most prestigious girls' high school in this country, Mr. Olsen. Our ladies are well-educated and well-trained. They're ready for absolutely anything, including your team. We've already beaten you once before, remember? What a well-fought fight that was." Their victory against Eastside was one of the shining points which made them the more favorable team in high school tankery.

"Yeah, well-fought. But!" he exclaimed with a finger pointed upwards. "But are they ready for our newest overall commander?"

"Newest overall commander? Ah, I remember now, you do have a new commander."

"Uh-huh."

"Pardon my poor memory, but what was his name again?"

Mr. Hamilton took the liberty to answer her question, which slightly annoyed the headmaster. "Jeffrey Rellington, madam. He's the son of Gerard Rellington."

The surname instantly rung a bell inside Mrs. Saunders. Her eyes widened as she quickly caught interest in the present commander. "Well, I'll be damned. Him? The son of Gerard?"

"Yes, madam."

"How old is he?"

"17."

"What grade is he in currently?"

"11th."

"And he's been studying in Eastside since the 9th grade?"

"Yes, madam."

"Again, pardon my poor memory. I might have already heard about Jeffrey before but I cannot remember one damn thing about him. I only know about Gerard. Can you tell me more about this young man?" There was one particular thing about Jeffrey she either forgot or didn't know, but both men did not have the courage to tell her. Mrs. Saunders had a rather skeptical view of prodigies.

Before Mr. Hamilton was able to do so, it was at that point where Mr. Olsen took over and began to talk about Jeffrey enthusiastically. "Well, sure. What do you want to know?"

She opted to ask for basic information on Jeffrey, with the _more_ personal questions being excluded since Mr. Olsen wasn't obviously in such a position to answer, nor did anyone else. "What tank does he use? He's using the same Pershing as his father, is he? Honestly, that would be very great to see."

"No, the Pershing his father used is already decommissioned. Last year Jeffrey commanded a Sherman Jumbo while he wasn't the overall commander back then. His current tank in the team is a T26E4 Super Pershing. Brand new."

"Good Lord, that's a great tank. 90mm gun can punch through almost any tank in the League." She cracked a smile and fidgeted her fingers.

"Emphasis on 'almost'." added Mr. Olsen.

"Does Jeffrey play any other sports? Is he in other clubs?"

"None that I'm aware of. He does play piano though, with the music club. In fact, we're planning on having him compete next year in AIRSEC."

"Ooh! Piano. My favorite instrument to play. Not those modern, godforsaken electronic ones, I'm into the bulky grand pianos. They're like my drugs back in the day."

"Huh."

"So, how is Jeffrey in academics?"

"Straight A-plus student. Our overall student rankings for the previous school year place him at... I think 7th or 8th. He's great in academics."

Mrs. Saunders gave a nod of approval. "Impressive."

"Got any more questions?"

"I have more questions, but if you want I can save them for another time."

"Save them for another time. We have to get back to the school as soon as possible to process the paperwork for this match."

"Oh, okay. Hold on, have I introduced you to my new commanders yet?"

"...No, not yet."

"Great. I think it's time I introduce you to them, Mr. Olsen. They might even be a perfect match for Jeffrey and Cutler. Girls!"

As the founder called them out, the attention of the two commanders were diverted, and they walked to where Mrs. Saunders was, standing firmly beside her.

She introduced the red-haired overall commander first. "This lovely lady is Farrah Connors, our new overall commander. She is also one of our top 10 scoring students for the school year. Farrah, this is Mr. Hamilton Operan, adviser for Eastside's tankery team, and this is Mr. Nicholas Olsen, the headmaster of Eastside."

Farrah smiled and shook Mr. Hamilton's and Mr. Olsen's hands. "Nice to meet you, sir. Sir."

The headmaster smiled back, but was surprised as he identified her accent as New Yorker. "Nice to meet you too. But hold on, your accent sounds familiar. Any chance that you are from here?"

"I am, Mr. Olsen. I'm originally from Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn? Well, do you know Jefffey personally? He's also from Brooklyn."

She nodded and replied. "Yeah, Mr. Olsen! He was my classmate back in elementary in Berkeley Caroll."

The four faculty members' eyebrows raised in wonder.

"Wow. I didn't know that." Mr. Olsen commented.

"Me neither." added Mrs. Saunders. Mrs. Saunders then gestured to the black-haired girl. "And this lovely lady here is Kira Highland, the new vice-commander. She's also a part of our fashion club, so you'll see her model on AIRSEC's (Association for International Relations in Sports, Education, and Culture) fashion competition."

Kira stepped forward and shook their hands as well. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton. Nice to meet you, Mr. Olsen." He took note of her appearance as well as her accent, which was also New Yorker.

"Nice to meet you too. Good luck on AIRSEC next year by the way. We'll be there for your support."

She beamed and nodded. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

He finally took notice of Kira being a lookalike of a horror character. "I'm not gonna lie, if you've watched 'The Ring' you really look like Sadako. Could be a great Halloween getup, you know what I'm saying?"

Farrah and Cutler suppressed a snicker, but became unnerved after they saw Kira shoot them with an evil grin. She was most likely thinking of some prank to play on them as revenge. October was just weeks away, too.

"I thought you hated that movie, Mr. Olsen." Mr. Hamilton remarked.

The headmaster corrected him on that matter. "Nah, I think it's a nice horror movie. My daughters coerced me into watching the movie, then I ended up liking it." He then turned back to Kira. "So you're New Yorker too?"

"Yes sir. Same case as Commander Farrah. I'm also from Brooklyn and I also went to Berkeley Caroll."

The coincidence surprised the four faculty members even more.

"Well, well." Mr. Olsen put on a smug look and turned to Mrs. Saunders, proud of the fact that they were New Yorkers. "Would you look at that, Gloria? It appears that New York has the best tankers after all."

She laughed and shot back with a jolly voice. "But they're ours now, mind you, Mr. Olsen. And I have full confidence in their abilities. I believe they will lead our team to a long, coveted tankery victory! Isn't that right, ladies?"

"Yes, Mrs. Saunders." They both answered with bright smiles.

"Nah, my boys will be on top. Jeffrey and Cutler will play you all like fiddles." boasted Mr. Olsen.

Mrs. Saunders shot back with a grin. "Hush now, Mr. Olsen. You'll see who the fiddles are after we win this practice match."

Once they were all outside by the pickups area, they approached a black Mercedes-Benz SUV. The crowd of reporters and cameramen had followed them all the way, which forced security to form a perimeter around the vehicle. Cutler hastily loaded Mrs. Saunders' luggage in the back of the SUV, while the headmaster, founder, and the two tankery team advisers rushed inside to shield themselves from the media's photo ops. Cutler, Farrah, and Kira were the only ones that remained.

"Bags are all inside!" Cutler announced and slammed the boot of the SUV shut.

"Good. You can go now, Cutler. Remember to notify us once the tanks have arrived. We'll see you later." Mr. Hamilton replied. Cutler walked away and back inside the airport, out of view.

Mr. Olsen looked at the female commanders curiously from the backseat and asked if they were coming along. "Ladies, there's enough room for you two in here. Aren't you coming with us? You can just wait at the school. Cutler and his teammates will handle the offloading of your tanks anyway."

Farrah replied. "We'd love to, Mr. Olsen, but we are wondering if we could instead go to Brooklyn and visit Jeffrey for the meantime."

The clamors of clashing security and media were even louder than Farrah's voice. "I'm sorry, visit who again?"

"Visit Jeffrey." She repeated in a louder voice.

"Don't you think this is too sudden, ladies?" Mr. Hamilton inquired. "If you had plans to visit Jeffrey, then you should have told us in advance, not on the spot here at the airport."

"We're sorry about that, sir. We're sorry, Ms. Edwards and Mrs. Saunders. We just thought of it now. We'll be sure to inform you in advance next time." The two Saunders schoolgirls apologized in unison for their lack of planning.

"It's fine. There's enough time for you two to visit him anyway, but your adviser has the final say." He turned to Ms. Edwards for her confirmation. "Well, what's your decision, Ms. Edwards?"

Ms. Edwards pondered for a moment before allowing them to go, a part of her being worried for their safety. Even if they were back in their hometown, they were both high schoolers, young girls in that regard. A _nything_ could happen if they were left without any form of supervision whatsoever.

"I don't know. This is your hometown after all, so you know where you're going. But I can't let you go without knowing you're in good hands."

Mr. Hamilton came up with a suggestion to fulfill her demands. "I'll ask the NYPD to have a few officers escort them and their taxi cab. How about that?"

She agreed with his suggestion in an instant and instructed the two commanders firmly. "Okay. NYPD escort will work. Farrah, Kira, you two can go. But once I call you, you should come back to the school as soon as possible. I'll give you like an hour and a half with Jeffrey. We're leaving at 11 AM sharp. Take good care of yourselves, alright?"

"Will do! Thank you, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Ms. Edwards."

"You can tag along with Jeffrey if you want to. Buses aren't gender-separated and they're just going to be sorted by role. Take care of yourselves." Mr. Hamilton added.

"Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. We'll see you later." Farrah and Kira bid them farewell before walking away with their belongings. They both hailed a taxi cab, then as Mr. Hamilton had proposed, an NYPD car was there to escort them to their destination.

* * *

 **Rellington Residence**

 **Brooklyn, New York City, New York, USA**

 **8:04 AM**

Not accounting for city traffic, Jeffrey only had around 10-15 minutes to tidy up his house before his friends arrived from the airport. He spent the time to clean up the first floor of his house, to keep his visitors feeling comfortable. Judging by the pace of his household chores and the look on his face, he was overflowing with excitement for his friends' arrival. The Kona brewed coffee also proved to be a useful energy booster for the morning.

Once knocking began to emanate from the door, he rushed to open it expecting them to show up, and they did. On the other end of the door stood his friends, or rather, opponents for the practice match, Farrah and Kira. The sight of his two friends and their angelic appearances even gave him more energy to start with for the long day. They both smirked then greeted Jeffrey in unison.

"Good morning, Jeffrey." Kira greeted casually.

"Salutations, Jeff! Good morning." Farrah greeted with a wave.

"Oh, hey! Good morning and welcome back, guys. It's nice to see you two again. Come on in!" Jeffrey greeted back with a muffled yawn at the end. As a gesture of courtesy, he stepped aside and let Farrah and Kira walk through and inside his house.

As two of his closest friends, Farrah and Kira were like wingmen to Jeffrey. If he were to make a list, the girls would rank number 2, or otherwise overtake Cutler as number 1. They hailed from the same borough, and studied in the same elementary school, but soon after moved to California before middle school. They were also fond of tankery like Jeffrey, and just as new to their roles, however they weren't prodigies like him.

When time allowed it, they occasionally visited New York and Jeffrey, and he never had any more fun than being with two of his closest friends. When he found out about their recent induction as overall commander and vice-commander for Saunders, he was very proud of them and excited to be able to play with them in the tournament, and the same could be said for them when they found out about Jeffrey's induction.

Now they were here, he was happy to see them again after some time. However, Jeffrey was expecting this visit to go one of two ways: either his friends would ask about how he had been, then straight-up grill him about the entire farce of Erika calling him out on television; or two, just ask him about his current state of living, like a casual conversation between friends. He hoped it wasn't the former, but as much as he wanted to avoid the hot seat, he knew people cannot help but sate their curiosity. At least he could trust these two girls for a while.

"Ready to get your ass kicked later?" Farrah asked with pure sarcasm in her voice.

"Remember about who's the prodigy here and who's not, Farrah." All three of them laughed in unison. Both sides knew that they still should not underestimate each other's skills, but a bit of bragging before a practice match was fine, especially between good friends.

She walked across the living room and laid her hand on the tarp of a grand piano that sat in the middle. She caressed the smooth, metalic surface, her fingers slipping and landing on some of the keys. "Different paint for the walls? Seems like it."

"Yeah, I had the walls re-painted months ago. And please, don't touch the piano or the tarp. Remember what happened three years ago?" Jeffrey took extra care of it as it was a grand piano and cost nearly $30,000. Another talent of his was playing the piano, and although he can play classical pieces such as pieces from Mozart and Beethoven, he was most fond of making piano renditions of popular songs.

"Oh, sorry." She followed his request and retracted her hand from the tarp. Farrah and Kira sat down on a sofa, their backpacks and cases set down on a coffee table. "It was just an accident, okay?"

"It was an accident, sure. Your loss against BFP (Black Forest Peak) was an accident." The two simply laughed off the roast, disregarding how humiliating of a subject their loss was. "How was your flight?"

Farrah answered. "Our flight was fine for the most part, but our tanks haven't arrived yet."

"How long are they going to take?"

"Probably one hour."

"Great, we all have some free time."

"That's pretty much why we visited you first, Jeffrey. We decided 'hey, let's go visit Jeffrey's sorry ass' and here we are." All three of them chuckled.

He raised and eyebrow and crossed his arms. "What happened to Mrs. Saunders? Is she with you?"

"She's with Mr. Olsen and our advisers right now. They're at school getting the paperwork for our match set."

"Have you two seen your parents yet? Do they know you've arrived earlier at JFK?"

"No, but we'll pass by our houses to see them for a bit. They know we're already here too."

"Alright." He clapped in approval and stood up. "You guys want something to drink? Fruit smoothie, perhaps?"

Farrah answered lively. "Sure, go ahead!"

He moved towards the kitchen and proceeded to prepare mango smoothies for his friends, doing it in an open area so they could see the process, from peeling to serving. He began with peeling the mangoes with a fruit knife, and continued their conversation while doing so.

"So, ever since you two got inducted as the commander and vice-commander of your team, you went ghost mode and didn't bother to share even the tiniest bits of news with me."

The redhead quickly objected. "Ghost mode? That's absurd. I've been posting a hellalot on Facebook, mostly about schedules. But I do admit that I've been unable to tell you stuff cause the closer the tournament is getting, the more my hands get full. You have NO idea how it feels like to procure various shit."

"Ha, I do. Pretty confusing with all the documents you have to fill up at first, but you'll get used to it after some time. It will turn from slow and steady to a fast, rinse and repeat process." When there is no scheduled training, the overall commander would commonly engage in office work and help the school administration in managing deals between the team and manufacturers of parts of tanks, munitions, and other supplies. Tankery is a really entertaining sport, but the most boring and time-consuming aspect of the sport can arguably be having the tanks repaired before and after a match. Even the least damaged tanks require extensive repairs.

"Yeah."

"I still remember Farrah's reaction when she saw those stacks of procurement papers sitting on her armchair." Kira smiled delightfully and looked away, trying her best not to laugh. She quickly earned a slap on the shoulder nonetheless.

Farrah jolted from her seat and exclaimed. "Damn it, Kira, don't tell Jeffrey about that!"

He, however, was insistent on finding out what Farrah's reaction exactly was. "What was her reaction like? Tell me, Kira. Tell me!"

"When we both went to class and she saw the stack with like 60-70 sheets she looked like she recovered and found out about her miscarriage." Everyone in the room then broke into a crippling fit of laughter, with Jeffrey slamming the grip of the fruit knife against a chopping board repeatedly.

"Come on, Farrah, you're a top student in Saunders yet you can't stand a stack of procurement documents? You're turning out to be pretty awful at your position."

"Shut up! Like you said, it takes time getting used to it!" On the other side of the couch, Kira still continued to hold in her need to laugh.

"Have you gotten along with your new group commanders?"

"Yep, and they're a bunch of good people."

"Any of them hot chicks?"

"All of them are." Farrah answered with a wide grin. "Jeez, Jeffrey, I can see right through your fucking mind. You want to hook up with one of them, don't you?"

In reponse to this absurd assumption, he affirmed his position on being a guy who places education first before a romantic relationship. "I'm a pure guy, alright? I'm not hooking up with any of them. For me, studies come first before romantic relationships."

"We both know that's bullshit." The two girls said in unison. All three of them shared a good laugh after.

"So, have you made any additions to your inventory? Decomissions?"

"We bought three new M24s and two new Jacksons. We decomissioned eight of our very old M4A1 tanks, all of them have the 76mm gun. We ordered Super Pershings instead of the Jacksons though, but we can't get them in time before the tournament. Factory in Cali says outfitting of the tanks has been delayed."

"Well that sucks. I hate it when that happens, you have ordered a specific tank and some time after the manufacturer pulls off that kind of BS." Time was indeed of the essence, so it was crucial for tankery teams to have their vehicles built and delivered in time. Simple delays with the process of procuring tanks could hurt many teams.

"Absolutely BS." Farrah said with a dissatisfied look, still upset with how her team wasn't able to get an upgrade.

"We can still make-do with just two Super Pershings in our lineup." an optimistic Kira said.

"Good luck with that."

Once he finished cutting the mangoes, he threw them in a blender and mixed in some milk, yogurt, ice, and a pinch of honey. The thick mixture which was the precursor to the mango smoothie was then quickly processed.

"How was training for you guys?" Jeffrey asked over the loud whirring sound of the blender motor.

"Training has been a smooth flow. We went for a M-W-F (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday) schedule for practical training, and T-TH (Tuesday and Thursday) for written classes. We made written classes a bit less confusing to accomodate the newer members too. Clearly some of them had no prior knowledge of how tanks work. How about you, Jeff?"

"Since we started training just this week, I had to put the team in a rush. From Tuesday to Thursday we did practical. We'll go full-out for the next weeks. No written classes, cause in Eastside we don't really do that." Some Tankery teams had the option to incorporate written classes for their members. To put it simply, there were no tanks. Teams just stayed at school sitting in 2-hour long classes with the coaches and commanders as teachers. Among the list of subjects covered in written classes were ballistics, navigation, and more.

"Okay. But why'd you start training this week? Had a lot on your mind at the time?"

"You can say that."

The next question from Farrah threw Jeffrey off. "Lemme guess. Erika?" His hand subconsciously let go of the motor button on the blender as he looked at her, face frozen in shock. This conversation just quickly went a full 180-degree turn for him, and he was going to have to rely on his intuition to provide both girls with satisfactory answers.

Once enough seconds of silence had passed, Farrah's guess was confirmed. "Welp. Erika it is. I can't blame you, she's pretty gutsy challenging a former child prodigy like you."

He finally spoke again and re-activated the blender. "Well, there's the possibility that she doesn't know that I was a child prodigy, or she knows but she could care less about it."

"Why would she care less about you being a former prodigy?"

"She's stupid if she thinks she can take you on like a can of sardines." Kira remarked.

Jeffrey abruptly stopped the blender a second time and answered firmly. "Because, being a former child prodigy doesn't necessarily mean all of your skills will be retained through adolescence. Being a prodigy won't mean shit if you don't even maintain and improve upon your skills as you grow up." That was a solid point about child prodigies. "In my case, I wasn't able to. You... kind of know the reason why."

The two understood what he was implying with those last words, and decided not to push the matter further and stayed silent.

"Anyway, if you've listened carefully to her interviews, Erika wasn't saying nonsense. She's right about two things. First, Black Forest Peak is the school with the most tankery championships in the high school level. _Sixteen_ , including their ongoing 8-year streak. If they aren't champions, then they are either 2nd or 3rd place. Not once in their lifetime have they dropped out of those. In her words, they have been excelling for years. No arguing with that. And second, I have a lot to learn as the overall commander until I can be considered 'professional'. I was just chosen because of what I did during the boys' finals against Trinity, unlike Erika who I think is literally raised for the position. Her family consists of tankery players too. I wasn't exactly a tactician when I was younger. My 'prodigy' skillset is just within working with a single tank."

"That makes complete sense now."

"Yeah."

"Honestly though, I wasn't expecting her to come into the blue and challenge me like that. She wants to see if I am really worthy of my position. She wants to test me, and I have no problem with that." Once the mixture inside the blender was deemed to be ready, Jeffrey unplugged the blender and poured the smoothie mixture inside three tall glasses.

Farrah smirked and spoke in a supportive manner. "Hey, I know you can meet or even surpass her expectations. You can do it, Jeff. If we ever get eliminated in the tournament we'll be right here for you and your team. Brothers and sisters in arms."

"Brothers and sisters in arms. Hell yeah." Jeffrey returned her smile with a brighter one. He could never be any more thankful for their support in advance. The spirit of brotherhood and sisterhood was strong in the sport of tankery, perhaps as strong as the biggest guns ever mounted on the tanks they operate.

"Welp, here you go, guys. Mango smoothies." He gave both girls their own glasses, leaving the last smoothie for himself.

Farrah held up her glass fancily and took a sip frok the cold, creamy liquid. After a few seconds building up her judgement, she nodded in delight and turned to Jeffrey for her verdict. "This tastes really good, Jeff. The mangoes blend perfectly with the milk and the honey."

Kira had the same reaction and took consecutive sips from her glass. "Ah, this is delicious. You seem to have made good choices for the milk and yoghurt. Good job, Jeffrey."

Jeffrey smiled back and took a sip from his own glass to judge his own creation. "Thank you. I'm glad you two like it." He licked his lips and took consecutive sips, satisfied with how his smoothie had turned out.

Farrah whipped out her phone and placed her smoothie on top of a coffee table, positioning it for a photo. "I should really tweet about this smoothie of yours. God, it tastes so good it makes me wanna crave for more."

"Cool, you tweet whatever shit you come across now, even food. One of the effects of moving to California, I see." They all laughed.

"Kira does the same too, you know. She's a sucker for Korean food in particular."

"I just love it, alright, F?"

He was thankful they did not tease him just like how Cutler and some of his other friends did.

* * *

 **John F. Kennedy International Airport**

 **Queens, New York City, New York, USA**

 **8:52 AM**

"Look at this crap. Look at this." Hubert uttered in a dissatisfied tone as he browsed through his phone.

"What is it now, cowboy?" Cutler asked as he slid his form over his tankery uniform, followed by a neon-orange reflective vest.

Hubert held up his phone in front of Cutler to show the content he was viewing. Cutler saw firsthand images of new phone models from Apple, with matching specs including pricing, storage capacity, and battery life.

He sighed in disbelief as he anticipated this to be another stupid tirade from Hubert. "Okay, where are you going with this, Hubert? They're the new phones from Apple, now what?"

"The new iPhones have pathetic names. iPhone XS, XS Max, XR. Whoever came up with these names is a fucking pleb. Why'd you even decide to pre-order one of these damn phones in the first place?" asked Cutler in his rough Texan accent. "They still retained that shit notch, too. It's goddamn ugly and annoying."

"I'd love to go one-on-one with you about a stupid topic again, but don't you realize we have a job to do? The tanks are here now, the Galaxies are taxiing towards where we are, and you're going to bring up this iPhone crap with me right now?"

"Okay," The Texan commander raised his hands in submission. "If you want me to shut up about it, then I'll shut up. I just can't believe you're spending a thousand bucks on one of these phones."

Cutler let that last line go out his other ear and knelt down to pick up a spare reflective vest for Hubert to wear, as well as a pair of earmuffs to protect his hearing from the loud blasts of the Galaxies' engines.

"Put this on. And you should use these (earmuffs) while the engines are still running. They're loud as hell."

After a few minutes, the three hulking C-5 cargo planes transporting Saunders' tanks came into full view, each plane coming to a stop in three designated offloading positions. Once the first Galaxy taxied its way to its position and its engines completely shut down, the assigned members of Eastside's tankery team, alongside the airport crew, began to do their duties and offload each tank inside. Certified drivers were responsible for driving the tanks off the ramp.

Offloaded from the first Galaxy were the following tanks: five M24 Chaffee light tanks, five M4A3 (76mm) Sherman medium tanks, and a single M26 Pershing with its gun facing the aft (to reduce the space being taken up). This Galaxy in particular was the one Mrs. Saunders was referring to as being "fully-loaded", as the cargo bay was cramped with how the tanks were arranged. On one side of the cargo bay were the five Chaffees and one M4A3, lined up neatly, and on the other was a line of the four other M4A3s and the singular Pershing. In between the two lines of tanks was a space so small any of the Air Force airmen could barely squeeze through.

Then from the second Galaxy the following tanks were offloaded: four M26 Pershing heavy tanks, gun facing aft, of course, and one M10 Wolverine. The tanks were arranged in a single line inside the cargo bay.

Lastly, offloaded from the third Galaxy were the following tanks: two more M10 Wolverine TDs and two M18 Hellcat TDs. They were a comfortable fit in the cargo bay.

All in all, Saunders' lineup for the practice match consisted of: five M24 Chaffees, five M4A3 Shermans, five M26 Pershings, three M10 Wolverines, and two M18 Hellcats, making a total of 20 tanks. The lineup wasn't bad for a practice match, but the stronger tanks had to be reserved for the real deal - the tournament.


End file.
